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Yol.  HI.— No.  8.       Sew  York,  May  23, 1896.         Prisel  "Cents! 

GENERAL  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE ; 

OR, 

NED  TRINKNER  IN  THE  ARMY. 


By  LIEUT.    W.    ATKINSON . 
Author  of  "The  Twins'  Struggles,"  "At  Bay,"  "Down  the  Mississippi,"  Etc. 


'THEN  YOU  ACKNOWLEDGE  YOU  STOLE  THE  BIRDS,  CHUCK"?"   "NO,  SAH;  I  HEAR 

MY  NAME  CALL',  SAH,  DIS  YER  WAY,  « CHUCK,  CHUCK.  CHUCK,  AN'  WHEN 

I  WENT  IN  DEY  ALL  COME  TO  DIS  YER  NIGGAH." 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


GEN.  DTZON'S  BOY  AIDE; 


Kerf      Trinhntr       in       the       Army* 


BY  LIEUTENANT  ATKINSON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    MOCK   BATTLE. 

Within  two  months  after  the  bombard- 
ment of  Fort  Sumter  every  boy  in  Mug- 
gletown  had  declared  for  one  side  or  the 
other. 

There   had   been  more  scuffles  in  the 
school-yard,  more  wrestling-matches  and 
free  fights  among  the  boys  of  Muggletown 
in  a  few  weeks  than  the  oldest  inhabit- 
ant remembered  in  all  his  lifetime  before. 
Through  it  all.^the  lads  were  good-na- 
tured and  full  of  honest,  healthy  fun. 
They  were  thorough  boys. 
In  their  dealings  with  each  other  they 
were  honorable. 

The  Rebel  boys  were  in  a  minority,  so 
when  they  proposed  a  regular  battle, 
which  challenge  the  Union  boys  accepted, 
they  agreed  on  the  following  terms: 

The  Rebels  were  to  build  a  fort  at  the 
top  of  a  steep  hill. 

This  fort  they  were  to  hold  against  the 
Federal  army  of  nearly  a  hundred  boys, 
who  were  to  march  up  the  hill  and,  if 
possible,  carry  the  fort  by  storm. 

They  had  no  arms  but  their  own  arms, 
which  Nature  had  given  them. 

Those,  I  assure  you,  they  knew  how  to 
use  to  good  advantage. 

The  Rebels  numbered  less  than  a  score; 
but   they   were   tough    fellows,  and   well 
able  to  withstand  a  scrimmage. 
Baug! 

It  was  the  small  cannon  in  the  fort, 
loaded  with  a  blank  charge  of  powder. 

It  was  fired  by  the  Rebel  leader,  Charley 
Stiles,  and  was  the  signal  for  the  Union 
army  to  begin  the  assault. 

They  stood  in  a  close  column  at  the 
river-side,  commanded  by'as  bright  and 
plucky  a  lad  as  ever  drew  breath. 

His  name  was  Ned  Trinkner.  and  he 
had  just  passed  his  fifteenth  year. 

Charge!''  lie  shouted,  and  as  the  solid 
company  of  lads  moved  up  the  steep  hill- 
side it  would   have  made  some  old  veter- 
an's heart  good  could  he  have  locked  on. 
Bang! 

It  was  the  cannon  booming  a  thunder- 
ing defiance. 

"Double  quick,  boys!" 
At  this  order  from  their  leader,  the  lads 
bent  themselves  almost  double  to  climb 
the  steep  ascent. 
They  worked  like  heroes. 
Bang! 


That  sounded  like  the  cannon,  and  y?t 
it  was  somewhat  sharper. 
Ah!     What  was  that? 
"Halt!"  i 

A  boy  in  that  company  of  one  hundred 
lads  had  fallen  to  the  ground. 

"Jemmy  Sheldon!"  muttered  one  of 
his  comrades  who  stood  over  him. 

"Give  him  a  chance  to  breathe.1'  said 
Ned  Trinkner.     "Stand  aside!" 
"Unbutton  his  vest,"  said  another. 
"Fan  him  with  your  hat." 
"  Go  fetch  him  a  drink." 
"Raise  his  head." 
"Where's  your  ambulance,  boys?" 
This  last  remark  was  made  by  a  voice 
entirely  strange  to  all  the  hoys. 

It  was  indeed  a  stranger:  a  man  of  per- 
haps forty  years,  who  had  sauntered  up 
while  the  boys  gathered  round  their  fal- 
len comrade. 

"Good  for  you,  stranger,"  said  one  of 
the  lads.  "Ned,  hadn't  we  better  harry 
up  and  make  a  stretcher?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ned.  "Make  one  of  some 
maple  branches,  and  four  of  you  carry 
poor  Jemmy  to  Doctor  Slee's.  Look  lively, 
now.  Sam  Richards,  you  take  charge  of 
Jemmy." 

The  boys  all  did  without  a  question  or 
a  murmur  just  as  Ned  commanded. 
They  had  got  so  well  drilled  that  already 
they  looked  naturally  to  Ned  as  their 
leader. 

They  even  stood  there  as  he  had  halted 
them,  without  attempting  to  advance 
higher  up  the  hill. 

As  to  the  Rebels  in  the  fort,  they  sup- 
posed their  assailants  were  up  to  some 
maneuvers,  and  silently  stayed  where 
they  were. 

As  the  little  cavalcade  moved  off  with 
poor  Jemmy  Sheldon  on  the  rude 
stretcher,  another  volley  was  fired  from 
the  cannon  as  a  sort  of  reminder. 

"Great  Heavens!"  said  Ned;  "can't 
those  fellows  see  there  is  an  accident?  I 
must  go  up  and  tell  them  to  let  ap. 

"Boys,"  he  added,  as  he  made  a  flag 
of  truce  by  tying  his  handkerchief  to  ;v 
twig,  '•  stay  here  while  I  go  up  and  see 
what  caused  that  shock  to  poor  Jemmv. 
They  couldn't  have  loaded  the  cannon, 
surely." 

As  Ned  hurried  along  the  stranger 
sauntered  after  him,  muttering  to  him- 
self. 

What  he  said,  was  this: 
"Darned  green  chumps  of  bovs! 
Couldn't  even  tell  that  the  kid  was  stone 
dead!  He'll  be  a  nice  surprise  for  the 
doctor  and  for  his  mother,  I  guess!  A 
pretty  good  shot— but  not  good  enough. 
I  tried  my  best,  too,  to  pick  off  that 
young  Trinkner!  No  matter,  my  time  will 
come'" 


m 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A    FATAL    SHOT. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Ned?"  asked  the 
commander  of  the  fort,  as  Trinkner  ap- 
proached with  his  white  flag. 

"Trouble  enough,'' replied  Ned.  "Jem- 
my Sheldon  is  badly  hurt." 

"How?" 

"That's  what  I  can't  just  tell.  We 
have  sent  him  down  to  Doc  Slee's." 

"Can't  he  tell  himself  what's  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"No.  He  can't  speak  a  word.  His 
eyes  are  dull  and  glassy,  and  he's  pale  as 
death.  What  did  you  fellows  load  your 
cannon  with?" 

"Nothing." 

"No  stones,  nor  gravel,  nor  shot  of  any 
kind?" 

"No,  sir;  simply  nothing — did  we, 
boys?'** 

"No!"  came  in  chorus  from  the  juvenile 
garrison. 

"Well,  all  I  can  say,  is," muttered  Ned, 
"  that  Jemmy  fell  as  you  fired  the  cannon 
the  third  time." 

"Man  alive!"  said  Charley  Stiles,  "we 
only  just  fired  the  cannon  the  third  time 
since  you  sent  the  boys  away  with  the 
stretcher.     "Isn't  that  so,  boys?" 
„    "Yes,  sir!" 

"  Here,"  continued  Stiles.  "  Come  here, 

Ned,  and  examine  our  ammunition.    See. 

i    the  cannon  has  just  been  primed  again." 

Ned  looked  at  the  powder  which  was 
raked  out  of  the  cannon,  and  found  it 
harmless  enough. 

"Strange,"  he  said.  "And  you  say, 
Charley,  that  you  have  fired  only  three 
times  altogether,  this  afternoon.  Did  you 
hear  the  report  of  something  when  I 
halted  my  boys?" 

"  Yes — at  least  I  thought  I  heard  a  rifle 
fired." 

"Now  I  come  to  think  about  it,"  said 
Ned,  "the  report  was  sharper  than  the 
cannon,  and  I  don't  remember  seeing 
much  smoke." 

"It's  my  impression,"  said  a  strange 
voice — the  same  which  had  suggested  an 
ambulance — "it's  my  impression  you  fel- 
lows are  all  off  the  scent." 

"  Why  so?"  asked  Stiles. 

"Yes;  give  some  reasons,"  added  Ned 
Trinkner,  who  somehow  wasn't  very  fav- 
orably impressed  with  the  stranger. 

"I  can  'do  that,  right  quick,  young  fel- 
lows, /saw  the  flash  of  a  rifle,  and  can 
show  you  just,  where  the  man  stood  who 
fired  it.  See  that  clump  of  brush  about 
thirty  yards  to  the  left?  Well,  right 
there.  I  was  talking  to  the  man  five 
minutes  ago.  He  said  he  was  practicing 
overhead-shooting  with  a  new  rifle.  I 
told  him  to  \jt  careful.    But  even  when  1 


saw  your  chum  fall  I  never  dreamed  of 
his  being  shot.  Thought  he  had  got 
some  cannon-smoke  in  his  eyes  and  stum- 
bled, falling  on  something  bard.  If  any- 
thing has  happened  to  the  boy,  you  can 
rely  on  me  to  identify  the  man  who  did 
the  shooting." 

"Good  Heavens!"  said  Ned,  anxiously: 
"I  hope  nothing  has  happened  to  poor 
Jemmy!" 

"Me,  too,"  said  every  one  of  the  boys. 
"Hallo,  there!"  shouted   Ned,  putting 
his   hands  to   his    mouth.      "  Come   up, 
here,  all  you  fellowsP1 

The  Union  men  hurried  up  to  their 
leader. 

"  1  am  afraid,"  said  Ned,  "  this  is  a  seri- 
ous busines,  fellows.  This  man  says  he 
saw  a  man  fire  a  rifle.  Our  fight  is  off  for 
to-day.  It's  bad  enough  for  a  man  to  be 
killed  in  a  real  battle;  we  don't  want  to 
do  anything  of  that  kind  until  we  have 
to." 

The  boys  sauntered  away  in  twos  and 
threes,  most  of  them  to  go  to  Doctor 
Slee's  to  find  out  how  badlv  Sheldon  was 
hurt, 

Ned  felt  blue  enough,  and  shoving  his 
bauds  in  his  pockets  started  to  walk  to 
Muggletown  alone. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you  fellows,"  said  the 
stranger,  edging  up  to  Ned.  "I  was  a 
boy  myself  once,  and  can  feel  for  bovs 
yet." 

Ned  made  no  answer.  He  did  not  like 
the  man's  style.  Although  he  used  sym- 
pathetic words,  there  was  nothing  sincere 
in  the  way  he  spoke. 
But  the  man  was  not  to  be  repulsed. 
"Seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "they  call  you 
Ned.  Sou  can't  be  Ned  Trinkner,  the 
widow  Trinkner's  boy?" 

"16  it  will  gratify  you  to  know — yes," 
said  Ned.  "That  is,  I  was  the  widow 
Trinkner's  son.  My  mother  is^i  Heaven, 
now;  she  died  more  than  a  year  aero." 

"Dead!  Your  mother  dead!  Then 
you  have  neither  father  nor  mother.  At 
least  your  father  deserted  you  when  you 
were  a  baby,  I  believe?" 

"I  don't  know  who  you  are,  sir,"  ex- 
claimed Ned,  indignantly,  "to  be  prying 
into  my  family  affairs.  'You  presume  a 
good  deal  when  you  say  my  father  deserted 
us.  He  left  us  to  go  to  California  in  Mil. 
when  I  was  but  three  years  old.  Prob- 
ably some  harm  or  accident  befell  him. 
That,  however,  is  none  of  your  concern. 
Good-day,  sir." 

"No  offense,  no  offense,  my  lad,"  said 
the  stranger,  as  he  drew  back. 

But  out  of  Ned's  hearing,  he  bit  his 
lips,  ground  hit-,  teeth,  and  .muttered  to 
himself: 

"None  of  my  concern!  Ha!  Ha! 
We'll  see,  my  young  bantam!    We'll  see 


jy 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


about  that,   and  before  a  great  while, 
too!" 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    BLACK    SPY. 

Charley  Stiles,  the  leader  of  the  Rebel 
boys,  and  commander  of  the  garrison, 
was  not  one  of  the  town  boys. 

His  father  was  a  wealthy  stock  raiser 
who  owned  a  splendid  stock-farm  ten 
miles  to  the  south. 

But  Charley  had  been  to  school  many 
years  in  this  town,  and  all  his  chums 
were  among  the  town  boys. 

Charley's  father  had  made  him  a  pres- 
ent of  a  handsome,  stout  pony,  able  to 
carry  a  heavy  weight  and  able  to  gallop 
pretty  fast. 

Desiring  to  make  Charley  a  good  horse- 
trader  as  well  as  a  horse-breeder,  his  father 
had  told  him  to  sell  the  pony  whenever 
he  could  get  a  real  good  price  for  the 
animal. 

So,  when  the  stranger,  after  his  rebuff 
by  Ned  Trinkner,  sauntered  up  to  Char- 
ley and  began  to  talk  "horse,"  young 
Stiles  drew  rein  and  listened. 

"I'm  a  Tennessee  man,  young  fellow," 
said  the  stranger.  "As  you  seem  to  side 
with  the  South  yourself,  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  I  want  a  good,  strong, 
and  hardy  pony,  so  I  can  help  the  cause." 

"Shake!"  said  Stiles,  who  was  an  en- 
thusiastic youngster  and  an  out-and-out 
Confederate. 

"  Will  you  sell  your  pony?" 

"Yes,  at  my  price.  I'll  sell  my  coat  or 
shoes  for  my  price." 

"Name  it." 

"  Three  hundred  dollars." 

"Whew!"  said  the  stranger,  with  a 
long,  low  whistle.  "  Can't  you  do* any 
better?" 

"  No,  sir?   '  Strictly  one  price!'  " 

"Take  two  hundred  and  fifty,  will 
you?" 

"No,  sir.     Three  hundred." 

"  It's  a  big  price,  but  if  you'll  throw  in 
the  saddle  and  bridle  and  give  up  posses- 
sion right  here,  I'll  take  the  horse." 

"  Sold  again!    It's  a  deal,"  said  Stiles. 

In  two  minutes  more  the  stranger  was 
astride  the  pony,  scampering  along  the 
hillside  road. 

As  for  Charley  Stiles,  he  stood  sizing 
fondly  at  six  fifty-dollar  bills. 

He  was  much  tickled,  and  thought  how 
good  it  would  be  to  show  his  father  the 
result  of  his  brisk  deal  in  horseflesh. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  may  as  well  go 
on  into  Muggletown  and  see  how  Jemmy 
Sheldon  is;  then  I  can  hire  a  rig  to  drive 
home.     I  guess  I  can  afford  it." 

About  that  moment  Trinkner  was  pas- 


sing through  a  clump  of  woods,  taking  a 
short  cut  into  town. 

"Mars' Ned!" 

Ned  looked  about  him,  but  could  see 
nothing. 

"Ho!  Mars' Ned!" 

The  words  were  uttered  in  a  stage- 
whisper.  Ned  looked  again,  and  this 
time  through  the  bushes  saw  two  glisten- 
ing eyes. 

"  It's  only  dis  yer  niggah,  Mars'  Ned!" 

"Hello,  if  it  isn't  Chuck!  What's  the 
matter,  Chuck?"  asked  Ned,  pleasantly. 

"  Mars'  Ned,  I  earn'  come  out  dar  to 
tell  yer  nufink.  No,  doan  you  come  in 
here  nuther.  He'll  sut'ng  kill  me,  Mars' 
Ned,  ef  he  knows  I  tell  yer.  sah.  I  seen 
him  do  it,  sah;  I  seen  him,  Mars'  Ned!" 

"  Do  what,  Chuck?  What  in  the  name 
of  spring  chicken  and  watermelon  are 
you  talking  about?" 

The  mention  of  Chuck's  favorite 
viands  seemed  to  brighten  the  negro's 
wits. 

"  De  shootin',  sah.  He  shot  poor  Mars' 
Sheldon,  so  he  did." 

"Who?  For  God's  sake  tell  me  all  you 
know,  Chuck.  Who  did  it?  What  is  his 
name?" 

"  Oh,  Mars'  Ned,  doan  ask  me.  I  doan 
know  his  name.  You  seen  him;  you 
talked  wif  him.  He'll  kill  dis  yer  niggah, 
suah,  sah,  but  he  done  de  shootin',  Mars' 
Ned!" 

Ned  would  have  asked  more  questions, 
but  Chuck,  frightened  and  excited,  had 
darted  back  into  the  woods,  and  Ned 
knew  it  was  no  use  trying  to  catch  up 
with  him. 

So  our  young  friend,  down-hearted  and 
puzzled,  pursued  his  way  into  town. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  was  by  the  bed- 
side of  his  old  chum,  Jemmy  Sheldon. 

And  Ned,  tender-hearted  as  he  was 
brave  and  plucky,  had  a  good  cry  over 
the  still  and  cold  form  of  his  dead  friend. 

For  Jemmy  Sheldon  was  indeed  dead; 
shot  through  the  heart  bv  a  cruel  rifle- 
ball. 

But  who  did  it?  Not  a  soul  in  Muggle- 
town knew  for  sure,  though  Ned  Trink- 
ner at  least  had  some  very  strong  sus- 
picions. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

THE    COUNTERFEIT    BILLS. 

When  Ned  Trinkner,  with  very  red  eyes 
and'a  very  wet  handkerchief,  came  out  of 
the  humble  residence  of  the  Sheldons,  a 
happy  thought  struck  him. 

The  Sheldons  were  by  no  means  rich. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  were  decidedly 
poor. 

He  would  take  up  a  subscription. 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


Ned  believed  in  quick  action. 

He  had  heard  the  old  saying,  that  "a 
■imble  ninepence  is  better  than  a  slow 
shilling." 

So  he  took  a  scrap  of  paper  from  his 
pocket,  and  with  a  pencil  headed  a  list: 


Ned. 


$2.00. 


Almost  the  first  fellow  he  met  was 
Charley  Stiles,  who  had  just  heard  the 
sad  news. 

"  Ned,  I'm  awful  sorry  about  poor  Jem- 
my.'1 

"I  know  it,  Charley;  we  are  all  sorry; 
it's  a  mean,  dirty  trick — it's  murder, 
that's  what  it  is." 

"Bjit  you  don't  think  we  did  it  with 
the  cannon,  Ned?" 

"Of  course  not.  Doctor  Slee  showed 
me  the  fatal  wound.  It  was  the  work  of 
a  rifle-ball." 

"It  is  a  mystery,  Ned.  Who  do  you 
suppose  did*  it?" 

"Nobody  knows,  Charley.  But,  mark 
my  words,  I  will  know  before  I  am  grown 
much  older.  Meantime  we  can't  call 
Jemmy  back  to  life." 

"That's  so,  and  I'm  sorry." 

"Well,  see  here,  Charley,  how  much  are 
you  sorry?  I  am  taking  up  a  few  dollars 
to  help  the  Sheldons,  who  will  feel  the 
expense  of  a  funeral." 

"If  you'll  walk  down  with  me  to  the 
livery,  Ned,  so  I  can  change  a  bill,  I'll 
give  you  twenty  dollars.  I  sold  my  pony 
after  you  fellows  went  home,  and  got  a 
big  price." 

"You're  a  brick,  Charley." 

The  two  lads,  who  had  been  lifelong 
friends,  though  now  divided  in  their  po- 
litical opinions,  hurried  to  the  livery- 
stable. 

"Mr.  Man,"  said  Charley  to  the  livery- 
man, who  knew  him  well,  "I  want  a 
horse  and  buggy  to  take  me  home. 
Here,  I'll  pay  you  in  advance.  Take  the 
price  out  of  this." 

Charley  handed  him  one  of  his  fifty- 
dollar  bills. 

The  man  looked  at  it,  rubbed  it,  held  it 
up  to  the  light,  and  looked  at  it  again. 

"  Well,",  said  young  Stdes,  "you  don't 
think  I  stole  it,  do  you?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't.  But,  I  am  curious 
enough  to  ask  where  you  got  it." 

"Why?" 

"  Do  you  want  to  know?" 

"Certainly.'' 

"Well,  it's  a  bogus  bill!" 

"  Bogus — counterfeit?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  queer.'1'' 

The  boy's  jaw  dropped  very  low.  ' 

"Great  Scott!"  he  exclaimed,  "what 
about  these?" 

He  produced  the  other  five  bills,  which 


he  and  Ned  and  the  liveryman  examined 
very  closely. 

"  All  of  a  kidney,"  said  the  man,  "and 
all  bad." 

Charley  felt  like  crying,  but  he  was  too 
much  of  a  man. 

"Well,"  he  said,  grimly,  "I  sold  my 
pony  for  a  little  high-priced  experience 
instead  of  for  currency." 

"But  who  did  you  sell  to?"  asked  Ned 
and  the  liveryman  together. 

"You  know  him— or,  at  least,  you  saw 
him,  Ned.  That  fellow  who  told  us  about 
the  shooting,  up  on  the  hillside." 

"  You  don't  say!"  muttered  Ned. 

To  himself  he  said,  "  Ah !  my  fine  friend, 
my  estimate  of  you  was  good  enough! 
You  are  a  scoundrel  of  deepest  dye.  If 
you  can  pass  bogus  money  and  lie  you 
can  murder!  I  don't  know  why  you  did 
it,  but  you  shot  Jemmy  Sheldon,  and  I 
will  live  to  prove  it." 

"Never  mind,  Charley,"  he  said  aloud. 
"Nothing  so  bad  but  it  might  have  been 
worse!  You  are  still  better  off  than  the 
Sheldons,  who  have  lost  what  can  nevej- 
be  replaced." 

Two  days  later  Jemmy  Sheldon  was 
buried  in  the  Muggletown  Cemetery,  and 
the  very  next  day  the  citizens  of  the  little 
town  were  stirred  up  over  a  strange 
event. 

An  army  officer  of  high  rank,  direct 
from  Washington,  took  up  his  headquar- 
ters at  the  principal  hotel  of  Muggletown, 
and  a  score  of  officers  of  lesser  rank 
were  quartered  in  the  same  house  with 
the  great  man. 

Interesting  times  were  certainly  ap- 
proaching. 


CHAPTER  V. 

NED     STRIKES     OUT. 

It  was  the  Fourth  of  July,  although  no 
one  could  have  guessed  it. 

At  least  not  at  Muggletown. 

Everybody  was  too  anxious  to  be  merry. 
The  smell  of  powder,  fired  in  dead  earn- 
est, was  too  strong  for  folks  to  want  to 
shoot  fire-crackers  for  fun. 

All  the  men  stood  about  the  street 
corners  waiting  for  news. 

The  boys  followed  suit,  and  shuffled 
about  the  town  in  twos  and  threes. 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  two  cities — 
Washington  and  Richmond. 

A  great  council  of  war  had  ju&t  been 
held  at  Washington,  and  the  result  was 
eagerly  awaited. 

Muggletown  was  evidently  considered 
an  important  point  by  the  War  Depart- 
ment. The  officer,  whom  we  will  call 
General  Dixon,  quartered  at  the  hotel, 
had  taken  charge  of  the  telegraph  office. 


8 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


He  sent  and  received  hundreds  of  tele- 
grams each  day. 

Hardly  an  hour  passed  but  one  or  the 
other  of'his  aides  galloped  off  or  took  the 
train,  only  to  be  replaced  by  a  new  arri- 
val with  important  dispatches. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon of  this  strange  Fourth  of  July. 

Ned  Trinkner  was  wishing  it  would 
hurrv  and  grow  dark,  so  he  might  go  to 
bed  and  forget  it  was  the  nation's  birth- 
day. 

General  Dixon  came  hurriedly  from  the 
telegraph  office,  and  bent  his  steps  to- 
ward the  hotel. 

He  was  reading  a  document. 

It  was  a  cipher  telegram,  sent  in  words 
that  would  have  been  worse  than  Greek 
or  Hebrew  to  those  who  had  not  the  key. 

The  General  understood  it,  however, 
and  a  cloud  of  worry  and  apprehension 
spread  over  his  veteran  brow. 

Suddenly  he  looked  up  and  saw  Ned 
close  to  his  elbow. 

"Come  with  me,  will  you?"  he  said, 
quickly,  but  politely,  to  Ned. 

The  lad  was  surprised,  but  promptly 
replied: 

"  Yes,  sir." 

They  passed  right  through  a  large 
room  where  several  officers  sat,  some 
writing,  some  reading,  and  some  merely 
awaiting  orders. 

"This  way,"  said  the  General,  passing 
on  to  his  bedroom  off  the  large  room. 

Ned  glanced  about  the  room. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  been 
in  any  kind  of  military  quarters. 

Like  most  boys,  he  was  interested  in 
what  he  saw. 

flanging  on  the  wall  a  handsome  full- 
dress  uniform. 

On  a  side-table  the  cocked  hat  of  a  Gen- 
eral, ornamented  with  plumes. 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  a  sword,  rich 
with  gold  and  silver,  and  a  sword-belt. 

Down  on  the  floor  a  fine  pair  of  boots 
with  gold-plated  spurs. 

Ned  wondered  it  he  would  ever  win  his 
spurs,  and  if  he  would  ever  be  entitled  to 
carry  a  sword. 

He  thought  to  himself  that,  if  be  ever 
carried  a  musket,  he  would  do  his  best  to 
exchange  it  for  a  sword. 

And  Ned  Trinkner  was  just  the  boy  to 
"get  there!" 

General  Dixon  seated  himself  at  a 
small  table  whereon  was  a  leaiher  port- 
able desk. 

Many  documents,  maps,  etc.,  were  scat- 
tered about. 

"  My  lad,"  said  the  General,  "knowing 
that  I  might  need  some  outside  aid,  I 
have  made  it  my  business,  daring  mv 
stay  here,  to  look  up  a  reliable  lad.  I 
think  you  are  one." 


"Thank  you,  sir;  I  hope  so." 

"I  understand  you  are  strong,  healthy, 
and  not  easily  frightened."  "• 

"  That  is  all  true,  sir." 

"  I  know  your  name — it  is  Trinkner." 

"Yes,  sir;  Ned  Trinkner;" 

"You  have  no  mother  nor  father?'" 

"  My  mother  is  dead,  sir;  and  my  father 
is  believed  to  have  died  many  years  ago." 

"  No  brothers  nor  sisters?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Very  well.  For  my  purpose  it  is  so 
much  better.  If  you  should  be  absent 
a  long  time,  there  is  no  one  who  would  be 
wronged  much?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Would  you  do  vour  countrv  a  good 
turn?"  « 

"Willingly." 

"How  much  would  you  give  up  for  the 
old  flag,  Trinkner?" 

"General,  1  would  give  just  all  that 
any  man  or  boy  could  give:  I  would  give 
my  life,  sir,  for  the  Stars  and  Stripes!" 

Ned's  eyes  flashed  and  he  stretched  him- 
self to  his  full  height  as  he  said  these 
words. 

The  officer  threw  off  his  hat,  jumped  to 
his  feet,  and  enthusiastically  said: 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  boy;  you'll  doP 

Ned  had  many  a  proud  moment  in  his 
life,  but  he  never  felt  any  prouder  than 
he  did  then,  when  General  Dixon 
clenched  his  hand  so  hard  that  it  hurt 
him. 

When  the  General  again  sat  down  he 
proceeded: 

"Now,  my  lad,  I  understand  that  you 
know  every  nook  and  cornerof  this  coun- 
try. I  want  you  to  carry  a  letter  for  me 
to  a  point  about  twenty-five  mfles  south 
of  here,  in  the  mountains.  I  cannot  send 
one  of  my  officers  for  several  reasons. 
One  is  that  they  are  strangers,  and  do 
not  know  the  territory  well  enough.  An- 
other is,  that  they,  being  strangers, 
would  excite  suspicion.  As  you  know, 
there  are  many  friends  of  the  South  all 
around  here,  and  they  would  closely 
w  a tcli  a  stranger. 

"Now,  the  people  hereabouts  know  you, 
and  you  know  the  people.  You  know 
the  country,  too.  We  have  a  surveyorat 
work  over  yonder  in  the  mountains,  and 
we  want  him  to  hurry  back  here,  or  at 
least  send  us  what  maps  he  has  made,  at 
once. 

"  To  morrow  war  will  begin  in  earnest. 
Here  is  a  letter  which  you  must  give  to 
no  one  but  the  man  1  will  describe.  Will 
you  undertake  the  task?'' 

"  Yes.  sir,  that  I  will,"  replied  Ned,  with 
energy. 

"Very  well;  come  here  at  sundown, 
and  then  I  wilt  give  you  final  instruc- 
tions." 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NED'S  SUCCESSFUL  TRIP. 

About  eight  o'clock  Ned  presented 
himself  at  General  Dixon's  room. 

The  General  was  ready  for  him. 

He  handed  the  lad  the  letter,  which 
Ned  secreted  inside  his  flannel  shirt,  and 
also  whispered  the  password  by  which 
Ned  would  know  his  man  and  introduce 
himself. 

The  General  shook  his  young1  messenger 
by  the  hand  and  said  a  cheery  word  or 
two. 

He  also  handed  Ned  a  fine,  new  Colt 
revolver,  telling  him  that  he  might  possi- 
bly need  it. 

Ned  fctuck  the  weapon  in  his  hip 
pocket  and  started  out  on  his  important 
errand. 

Ned  was  very  much  elated,  as  well  he 
might  be. 

Many  a  lad  doubtless  would  have  been 
willing  to  undertake  that  errand,  for 
these  grand  United  S rates  are  chock-full 
of  the  plucky  boys  who  make  brave  men. 

But  it  was  none  the  less  to  Ned  Trink- 
ner's  credit/that  he  did  without  hesita- 
tion what  General  Dixon  asked  of  him. 

He  was  young,  and  he  knew  every  inch 
of  the  narrow  mountain  road. 

His  step  was  elastic,  and  after  he  had 
walked  a  dozen  miles  he  was  not  a  bit 
tired. 

.  But  he  was  hungry. 

For  he  was  a  growing,  healthy  boy, 
and  it  would  be  a  strange  thing  if  he 
were  not  hungry  after  tramping  steadily 
for  three  hours. 

So  he  decided  to  tackle  without  cere- 
mony a  huge  sandwich  which  he  had  put 
into  his  coat-pocket. 

He  did  not  suppose  for  a  moment  that 
anyone  would  pass  along  that  road  so 
late  at  night. 

Indeed,  he  knew  very  well  that  some- 
times whole  weeks  elapsed  without  a  soul 
passing  along  that  lonely  road. 

But  he  thought  it  would  be  prudent  to 
retreat  into  the  woods  a  step  or  two. 

He  did  so,  and  sat  on  an  old  stump  to 
eat  his  modest  but  substantial  lunch. 

He  had  beemseated  about  two  minutes 
when  he  saw  a  figure  flit  past  on  the  road, 
in  the  same  direction  as  he  was  going 
himself. 

He  could  hear  no  footsteps,  for  the 
traveler  was  barefooted,  although  he 
was  pegging  along  at  a  good  gait. 

But  Ned  knew  him  instantly. 
It  was  Chuck,  the  nigger! 
"  Now,"  thought  Ned  to  himself,  "  what 
is  up?"" 

At  first  he  felt  like  calling  Chuck  by 
name.  But  on  second  thoughts  he  de- 
cided that  he  would  not  betray  his  pres- 


ence even  to  Chuck,  whom  he  knew  was 
his  friend. 

So  Ned  kept  still. 

He  finished  his  meal,  and  having  given 
the  colored  man  about  live  minutes  start 
of  him,  he  continued  his  journey. 

Ned  reached  his  destination  by  .sunrise, 
and  about  seven  o'clock  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  finding  his  man. 

They  exchanged  the  password,  and 
Ned  delivered  General  Dixon's  letter  to 
the  surveyor. 

"You're  a  plucky  fellow,"  said  the  man. 
"You  must  be  tired  and  hungry.  Down 
here  in  the  woods  I  have  a  little  hut.  We 
shall  find  some  bread  and  milk  there." 

So  they  went  down  to  the  surveyor's 
shanty,  where  Ned  breakfasted  on  bread 
and  milk. 

"Now,"  said  the  man,  who  was  quite 
young  and  very  friendly,  "you  lie  down 
here  and  take  a  sleep.  I  will  wake  you  in 
good  season,  and  by  that  time  I  shall 
have  finished  an  important  map  which  I 
wish  the  General  to  havei" 

Although  Ned  would  never  have  con- 
fessed it,  he  was  both  tired  and  sleepy, 
and  was  soon  in  the  land  of  Nod. 

It  was  getting  dark  when  the  surveyor 
awoke  him. 

"Now,  my  lad,"  he  said,  "I've  brought 
you  a  good  slice  of  pie  from  the  village 
yonder.  You  had  better  fill  up  on  it  and 
some  of  the'  bread  and  milk.  You  will 
have  to  return  alone.  Here  is  a  letter 
and  a  package  of  maps.  Whatever  you 
do,  don't  lose  them,  and  give  them  to  no- 
body but  General  Dixon.  I  have  ex- 
plained in  my  letter  why  I  cannot  return 
with  you." 

About  midnight  Ned  was  again  in  the 
loneliest  part  of  that  lonely  road. 

It  Mas  very  near  to  the  place  where  he 
had  eaten  his  lunch  on  the  previous 
night. 

Only,  this  night  he  had  no  lunch  to 
eat. 

He  wa6  thinking  of  Chuck,  and  won- 
dering where  that  darky  could  have  been 
going,  and  where  lie  was  now. 

He  was  startled  by  the  report  of  a  rifle. 

A  bullet  whizzed  right  past  his  ear. 

It  was  so  close  that  Ned  could  distinct- 
ly hear  the  buzz. 

It  was  enough  to  scare  an  older  person 
than  Ned  Trinkner. 

But  Ned  put  himself  on  the  alert. 

He  drew  his  revolver  from  his  pocket 
and  cocked  the  hammer. 

Then  he  stood  still. 

A  moment  later  a  man  sprung  from  the 
woods. 

Ned  fired. 

Bang! 

He  fired  again. 

There  was  a  sharp  cry  of  pain  from  the 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


man,   and  Ned  knew  he  had   wounded 
him. 
So  he  did  not  fire  again. 
But  the  man  was  not  badly  hurt. 
He  jumped  at  Ned    and    dashed   the 
pistol  from  the  plucky  boy's  hand. 

"Keep  still,  or  I'll  finish  you,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

"  No,  you  scoundrel,  I'll  not!"  said  Ned. 
The  fellow   swore   a  great   oath,    and 
tried  to  grab  Ned  by  the  throat. 

But  Ned  stepped  aside  and  knocked 
the  fellow's  slouchy  hat  to  the  ground. 

"Ha!"  shouted  Ned,  "you  rascal,  I 
know  you!  You  would  treat  me  as  you 
did  poor  Jemmy  Sheldon  a  few  weeks 
ago!" 

The  man  growled  with  rage,  and  stood 
for  a  moment  at  bay. 

He  glared  at  Ned,  who  returned  his 
stare. 

"  Understand  me,"  he  said,  at  last;  "  I 
want  no  nonsense.  You  have  some  papers 
which  you  will  give  to  me,  or  never  leave 
this  spot  alive.     Give  up,  now!" 
"Never!"  shouted  Ned. 
"Lookout,  then!" 

With  that,  the  cowardly  assassin  rushed 
at  Ned. 
But  he  had  met  his  match. 
Ned  was  a  skillful  wrestler  and  very 
strong  for  a  lad. 

He  struggled  manfully,  and  for  two  or 
three  minutes  there  was  no  advantage  to 
either  combatant. 
Suddenly  from  the  woods  came  a  yell. 
"Give  it  to  him,  Mars'  Ned!  Go  for 
him,  sah!  Knock  his  eye  out!  Stand  up 
to  him,  Mars'  Ned!    Whoop-ee!" 

The  would-be  assassin  turned  and  ran 
like  the  wind. 

A  momeut  later  Chuck  stood  beside 
Ned. 

"Well,"  said  the  astonished  and  some- 
what exhausted  Ned,  "what  do  you  do 
here?" 

"Mars'  Ned,  I  just  done  thought,  sah, 
you'd  git  inter  trouble,  sah.  So  I  fol- 
lered  yer  an'  follered  yer  'till  dis  yer 
present  moment,  sah!" 

"Yes,  but  you  didn't  help  me  very 
much,  Chuck.  You  let  me  do  all  the 
fighting,  you  old  coward,  you!" 

"Now,  Mars'  Ned,  didn't  I  just  yell  an' 
holler,  sah?    I'se  'fraid  ter  show  myself 
ter  dat  ar  man,  'case  he  kill   me,   suah. 
But  I   holler  and  scare  him,    didn't   I 
sah?" 

"  Yes,  you  certainly  hollered  consider- 
ably, and  I  suppose  you  scared  the  scoun- 
drel, as  he  took  to  his  heels.  Come  along, 
Chuck,  we'll  travel  home  together.  By 
the  way,  you  lost  me  last  night,  didn't 
you?" 

"Yes,  sah,  right  here." 

"  You  old  goose,  I  was  sitting  behind  a 


tree  and  saw  you  go  past.  But  I'm  glad 
of  your  company,  now,  anyhow.  Only, 
Chuck " 

"Yes,  sah?" 

"Y"ou  had  better  keep  your  mouth 
shut  until  I  tell  you  otherwise.  We 
don't  want  everybody  to  know  about  this 
trip." 

"  Suah,  sah." 

Ned  had  passed  through  a  tight  pRce. 

It  was  a  close  call,  but  hereached  home 
safely,  and  placed  the  letter  and  maps  in 
the  hands  of  General  Dixon. 

He  not  only  received  that  officer's 
thanks. 

He  was  substantially  paid  from  Uncle 
Sam's  treasury  with  fifty  dollars  in  gold. 

But  Ned  found  Muggletown  topsy-turvy 
with  excitement. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OFF    FOR    THE    WAR. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day 
of  July  when  Ned  got  back  to  Muggle- 
town. 

On  the  day  previous  President  Lincoln 
had  issued  a  proclamation  calling  for  an 
army  of  four  hundred  thousand  volun- 
teers to  pat  down  the  Rebellion. 

All  through  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  loyal  South  regiments  were  already 
being  raised. 

Even  in  sleepy  old  Muggletown  flavs 
were  streaming,  drums  were  rolling,  horns 
were  tooting,  speeches  were  being  made, 
business  was  suspended,  and  all  men 
were  wild  with  excitement. 

Ned  sought  his  guardian,  old  lawver 
Turrell. 

"Squire,"  he  said,  boldly,  "if  they'll 
enlist  me,  I'm  going  to  the  war." 

"Which  means,  in  other  words," 
growled  the  Squire,  "that  you  want  to 
go  to  the  devil." 

"No,  sir,  unless  you  call  the  South  the 
devil  about  this  time." 

"Confound  yourimpudence,Ned  Trink- 
ner!  Do  you  know  I'm  your  guardian, 
and  that  I  sympathize  with  the  South?" 
"Can't  help  it,  Squire.  I  know  I'm 
only  a  boy;  but  I'm  a  pretty  good-sized 
boy,  and  I've  got  good  marching  legs  and 
a  stout  arm.  More  than  that,  I've  got 
my  own  notion  in  regard  to  Jeff  Davis, 
and  I'm  ready  to  back  it  up,  sir." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Ned!"  said  the 
lawyer,  testily.  "  I  tell  you  you're  only  a 
boy,  with  no  right  to  any  opinions.  Be- 
side, I'm  your  legal  guardian,  and  can  for- 
bid your  leaving  this  town  without  my 
permission.  Hang  it,  young  fellow-,  if  *I 
were  twenty  years  younger  I'd  fight  my- 
self— on  the  other  side." 

"Won't  you  give  me  permisson  to 
enlist,  Squire?" 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


9 


"  iVb/"  thundered  old  Turrell,  stamp- 
ing his  right  foot  on  his  favorite  corn. 

"I'm  sorry,  Squire,"  said  Ned,  very 
humbly;  "because — er— because,  why,  you 
see,  Squire,  I  think  I  shall  have  to  go 
without  your  permission." 

"What's  that,  sir?" 

"I  think  I  shall  go,  anyhow,  if  they 
will  enlist  me." 

"Dod-blast  your  impudence,  Ned, 
you've  got  a  pilebf  cheek  for  a  boy,  sir." 

At  heart  the  old  fellow  admired  Ned's 
sturdy  independence. 

He  was  glad  that  the  boy  had  come  and 
told  him  his  intentions. 

He  knew  very  well  that  most  lads 
would  have  sneaked  off  without  saying  a 
word. 

But  he  still  pretended  to 'be  mad  and 
angry. 

"Well,  go  then,"  he  growled;  "  go  and 
get  killed!  But  if  they  bring  you  home  a 
corpse,  don't  say  a  word  to  me,  sir." 

Ned  saw  he  had  practically  carried  his 
point  with  his  guardian. 

"Judge."  he  said,  although  lawyer  Tur- 
rell had  never  occupied  a  seat  on  the 
judicial  bench;  "Judge,  excuse  me,  but 
you  are  too  old  to  fight." 

"Humph," growled  old  Turrell;  "you'd 
see,  if  I  had  a  good  hickory  stick  he'-e, 
my  lad!" 

"  So  I  suppose  you  will  stay  in  Muggle- 
town,  sir," continued  Ned.  "I  only  want 
you  to  be  so  good  as  to  take  care  of  the 
property  my  mother  left  me  just  the 
same,  whether  I  am  here  or  not.  Will 
you  do  that,  Squire?" 

"And  suppose  you  go  away  from  here 
and  never  come  back,  Ned?  Sou  have  no 
relatives  to  claim  your  property." 

"  Keep  it  yourself,  Squire,  or  do  as  you 
please  with  it." 

There  was  something  glistening  in  the 
old  lawyer's  eyes. 

"You're  a  generous  fellow,  Ned.  I'll 
take  good  care  of  your  property,  lad  -but 
I  could  never  touch  a  penny  of  it.  I'm 
t>orry  you  ain't  on  our  side,  though." 

That  night  there  was  a  big  torch-light 
parade  in  Muggletown.  Bands  played, 
men  shouted,  and  boys  yelled. 

There  was  a  mass-meeting  and  speech- 
making  on  the  public  square. 

Some  army  officers  were  there,  and 
many  well-known  public  men. 

Volunteers  were  enrolling  their  names. 

Ned  went  up  and  took  the  pen  to  sign 
his  name. 

"Too  young,  boy,"  said  a  big  man, 
gruffly. 

"  Go  home  and  eat  more  beefsteak  for 
awhile,"  said  another,  who  thought  he 
was  a  joker.  "  You  wouldn't  make  decent 
sausage  for  the  Rebs  yet." 

"You  mean  well,  my  lad,"  said  a  third, 


more  kindly,  "but  you  will  have  to  bring 
a  permit  from  yourparents." 

But  Ned  was  not  to  bf»  easily  foiled. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  presented  himself 
again  to  the  enrolling  officers. 

He  had  a  permit  signed  by  old  Isaac 
Turrell. 

He  also  had  another  paper. 

It  was  a  recommendation  from  an  officer 
already  in  charge  of  that  district. 

This  is  what  it  said: 

Colonel  Barker: 

The  bearer  has  lately  done  the  United 
States  Army  a  great  service.  He  is  a 
plucky  lad,  and  will  make  a  good  soldier. 
Do  what  you  can  for  him. 

Ford  Dixon,  Brig.  General. 

Two  days  afterward,  when  the  men, 
known  as  the  Kentucky  Skirmishers, 
met  for  their  first  drill  and  the  election  of 
non-commissioned  officers,  the  Colonel 
read  General  Dixon's  note. 
.  The  result  was  that  the  youngest  mem- 
ber of  the  regiment  became  at  once  de- 
cidedly popular,  and  was  assigned  to  his 
company  as  Corporal  Ned  Trinkner. 

The  day  the  regiment  of  recruits 
marched  out  of  Muggletown  on  their 
way  to  the  Newport  Barracks,  opposite 
Cincinnati,  was  a  day  never  to  be  forgot- 
ten. 

The  noise  was  deafening. 

The  excitement  was  intense. 

But  above  all  the  din  and  uproar  could 
be  heard  the  shouts  of  the  boys: 

"Gooa-by,  Ned,  old  fellow!" 

"Good  hick,  Ned!" 

"Bully  boy,  Trinkner!" 

Ned  waved  his  hat  and  his  hand  until 
he  was  tired,  and  shouted  farewells  until 
he  was  hoarse. 

One  boy  pressed  through  the  crowd 
and  grasped  Ned's  hand. 

It  was  Charley  Stiles. 

"  Good -by,  old  boy,"  he- said;  "don't 
forget  our  play-battles.  We  may  meet  to 
fight  in  dead  earnest,  if  this  lasts  long 
enough!" 

Ned  remembered  those  words  when 
next  he  saw  Charley  Stiles. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

PROMOTED. 

It  was  the  spring  of  1862. 

The  "boys"  who  had  left  the  towns 
and  hamlets  of  the  North  at  the  first  call 
of  the  President  were  already  veterans. 

Many  hundreds  of  them  were  more  than 
that. 

They  were  martyr-heroes,  having  laid 
down  their  lives  tor  rheir  country's  cause. 

On  the  fair  fields  of  the  sunny  South 


10 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDin. 


thousands  of  bones  lay  bleaching,  and 
in  the  prison-pens  of  the  Confederacy 
strong  men  were  fast  losing  their  strength 
and  manliness. 

It  was  April. 

Just  one  vear  from  the  bombardment 
of  Fort  Sumter,  and  yet  the  war  had 
practically  only  just  commenced. 

The  first  {rreat  battle  of  the  war  had 
just  been  fought— the  battle  of  Shiloh. 

The  Kentucky  Skirmishers  had  covered 
themselves  with  glory. 

So  had  the  Color-Sergeant  of  the  regi- 
ment. 

His  name  was  Ned  Trinkner. 

It  fell  to  the  Kentucky  boys  to  capture 
a  couple  of  huge  pieces  of  artillery,  which 
for  hours  had  been  pouring  forth  a  dead- 
ly fusillade  of  shot  and  shell. 

Over  and  over  again  the  brave  fellows 
attempted  to  charge  the  battery  and 
spike  those  two  guns. 

As  many  times  they  had  to  retreat. 

It  was  like  marching  into  the  jaws  of 
death. 

Out  of  nearly  a  thousand  men  who 
made  the  first  charge,  scarce  eight  hun- 
dred were  left  when  they  beat  their  first 
retreat. 

By  the  time  they  were  repulsed  for  the 
third  time,  only  half  of  the  original  num- 
ber remained. 

Not  a  man  in  the  regiment  was  a  coward. 

ThejT  were  afraid  of  nothing. 

Swords  and  muskets  were  only  incen- 
tives to  daring. 

And  yet  they  were  greatly  discouraged. 

They  felt  that  it  was  a  hopeless  task 
for  them  to  attempt. 

If  they  could  not  force  their  way  with 
a  thousand  fresh  and  eager  men,  how 
could  they  hope  to  do  any  good  with  but 
five  hundred  tired  fellows? 

They  signaled  for  aid. 

But  it  could  not  be  spared.  Every 
regiment  in  that  army  was  busy. 

Colonel  Barker,  Commander  of  the 
Kentucky  Skirmishers,  was  the  bravest 
of  the  brave. 

There  was  not  a  weak  or  faltering  hair 
in  his  head. 

All  through  the  unsuccessful  attacks 
he  had  been  at  the  head  of  his  men.  rally- 
ing them  by  cheerful  \v,ords  and  good 
example. 

"Lads,"  he  said  at  last,  "  we  have  tried 
three  times,  and  we  should  be  justified 
in  quitting  now.  But  the  eyes  of  our 
country  are  on  old  Kentucky.  I'm  for 
one  more  try,  and  I  know  you'll  help  me. 
Come  along,  boys!" 

But,  even  as  the  gallant  officer  spoke, 
the  bullet  from  a  sharp-shooter's  musket, 
fired  with  unerring  aim,  whistled  through 
the  air.  and  smote  the  shoulder  of  the 
Colonel. 


He  shuddered  and    turn  pale,   as  his 
sword-arm  dropped. 
But  he  smiled,  sadly. 
"I'll  have  to  fall  out,  boys;  but  try  it 
again,  for  my  sake!" 

To  the  front  rushed  a  man  on  whom  all 
eyes  were  turned. 

It  was  Color  Sergeant  Trinkner. 
'"Hurrah    for  the   Colonel,    boys!"  he 
shouted. 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  five  hundred 
throats. 

"  And  a  big  hurrah  for  Old  Kentucky!" 
he  went  on. 

"  Three  cheers  for  the  old  flag!"  yelled 
the  Color-bearer  as  he  waved  to  and  fro 
the  weather-worn  and  shot-tattered  em- 
blem that  the  boys  loved  so  well. 

Have  you  ever  heard  the  roar  of 
Niagara? 

Well,  the  peal  upon   peal  of  cheering 
could  be  heard  far  above  that  noise. 
Ned  meant  business. 
He   was  still   the  youngest   soldier  in 
that  regiment,  but  he  was  also  still  the 
very  bravest. 

"Boys!"  he  shouted,  as  he  tore  down 
the  flag  from  its  standard  and  wrapped 
its  silken  folds  around  his  body,  ""this 
flag  will  float  on  top  of  the  hill  behind 
those  Rebel  guns  in  ten  minutes.  You 
won't  desert  it?  No!  Hurran!  Charge!" 
Up  the  steep  ascent,  througn  clouds  of 
powder  and  smoke,  and  through  a  very 
hailstorm  of  shot  and  shell,  scrambled 
that  handful  of  brave  Union  boys. 

Sergeant  Trinkner  carried  a  sword  in 
his  right  hand,  and  in  his  left  the.  identi- 
cal revolver  which  General  Dixon  bad 
given  him  in  Muggletown. 

He  fought  his  way  up  inch  by  inch. 
He  had  the  strength   of  a  young  lion, 
and  to  achieve  his  purpose  he  was  fierce 
as  a  tiger. 

He  was  several  yards  ahead  of  his  com- 
rades. 

One  powerful  man  in  Confederate  gray 
tried  to  tear  the  flag  from  his  body: 
but  Ned  put  a  pistol-shot  through  his 
head,  and  the  man's  gghting  days  were 
over. 

Another  seized  Ned  about  the  waist 
and  tried  to  throw  him:  but  our  young 
friend  remembered  all  his  old  W«Y?f  i .brig 
tricks,  and  used  them  now  to  good  ad- 
vantage. 

He  seemed  possessed  of  the  strergfh  of 
Hercules. 

He  threw  his  adversary,  and  the  next 
moment  was  parrying  a  sword-thrusf 
from  a  Rebel  officer. 

He  did  get  one  nasty  cut  on  his  fore 
head,  and  lost  his  hat  and  his  sword. 
But  he  kept  his  word. 
The  Union  boys  captured  the  battery, 
and  within  the  time  set  bv  Ned  the  silken 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


11 


Stars  and  Stripes  floated  from  a  Rebel 
musket,  which  he  stuck,  bayonet  down- 
ward, into  the  soft  but  blood y  turf. 

Although  Ned  had  often  proven  him- 
self brave  and  plucky,  tills  was  the  first 
opportunity  he  had  had  of  distinguish- 
ing himself  in  actual  battle. 

He  received  the  congratulations  of 
his  comrades,  and  the  thanks  of  his 
Colonel,  who  was  in  the  hospital.         . 

Beside  that,  when  the  dispatches  of  the 
Commanding  General  were  sent  to  Wash- 
ington on  the  next  morning,  the  name 
of  Color-Sergeant  Trinkner  was  speocially 
and  honorably  mentioned. 

And  when  a  general  order  was  circu- 
lated announcing  promotions  and  to  fill 
vacancies  caused  by  death,  etc,  under 
the  heading  "To  be  Second-Lieutenants" 
was  this  name:  Color  Sergeant  Edward 
Trinkner. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CHUCK'S    story. 

But  we  have  digressed,  though  no 
apology  seems  to  be  necessary. 

It  would  hardly  have  done  to  pass  over 
Ned  Trinkner's  unsurpassed  bravery  at 
the  celebrated  battle  of  Shilob. 

However,  the  evening  after  the  day  of 
the  battle,  and  before  Ned  knew  that  he 
was  a  Lieutenant,  he  sat  with  some  of 
his  comrades,  resting  before  a  camp-fire. 

They  were  all  more  or  less  tired,  and 
were  reclining  in  various  positions  of  re- 
pose. 

One  of  their  number  was  spinning  a 
yarn. 

They  were  so  engrossed  (those  who 
were  awake)  in  the  storj',  that  they 
hardly  noticed  the  approach  of  a  negro. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  about 
the  darky,  who  had  a  basket  of  apples, 
nuts  and  candy,  which  he  was  trying  to 
peddle. 

"Got  a  pass?''  asked  a  young  officer,  of 
the  negro. 

"Yes,  sah — why,  laws-a-massy,  ef  it 
ain't  Mars'  Ned!" 

The  darky  was  evidently  pleased  to  see 
a  familiar  face,  for  he  dropped  his  basket, 
leaving  its  contents  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  the  "boys." 

"Hello,  Chuck,  old  fellow,  you're  a 
regular  mascot!  You  seem  to  find  me  out 
and  run  me  down,  no  matter  where  I  go. 
What  do  you  know,  Chuck!" 

"Laws,  Mars'  Ned,  lots!  Lots,  sah, 
lots!"  1 

"  Well,"  said  Ned,  "I  like  to  ran  across 
a  man  who  owns  up  to  knowing  some- 
thing; sit  down.  Chuck,  sit  down,  and 
let's  have  a  visit." 

After  a  few  general    inquiries   Chuck 


dropped  his  voice  somewhat,  anxl  was 
soon  earnestly  telling  Ned  of  rather  im- 
portant matters. 

We  will  not  use  Chuck's  curious  phrases 
nor  reproduce  his  roundabout  story. 
In  substance  it  was  as  follows: 
Chuck   was    deeply  attached     to   Ned 
Trinkner. 

He  had  taken  care  of  Ned  when  our 
hero  was  a  baby. 

Chuck's  father  had  been  slave  to  Ned's 
grandfather,  and  just  before  the  old  gen- 
tleman died  he  gave  his  faithful  negro  his 
freedom. 

Ned's  father  and  mother  had  been  ex- 
ceedingly good  to  Chuck,  and  so,  at  vari- 
ous times,  had  Ned  himself. 

For  all  these  reasons^  Chuck  felt  that 
he  owed  considerable  to  the  Trinkner 
family,  of  which  Ned  was  now  the  sole 
representative. 

But  for  a  long  time  Chuck's  mind  had 
been  strangely  disturbed. 

In  his  wanderings  since  the  death  of 
Ned's  mother,  he  had  for  a  sbortj  time 
been  in  the  employ  of  a  man  engaged  in 
various  shady  avocations  in  St.  Louis 
and  other  Western  cities. 

Chuck  had  soon  discovered  that  this 
man  was  utterly  devoid  of  principle. 

He  also  learned  that  the  fellow  had  a 
secret  of  his  own  which  lie  tried  to  care- 
fully guard,  but  which  was  so  graven  on 
his  mind  that  he  raved  about  it  in  his 
sleep. 

One  night  Chuck  overheard  him. 

The  darky  learned  all  the  particulars  of 
a  cold-blooded  murder  committed  on  the 
plains, 

A  man  on  his  way  to  California,  some 
years  before,  had  undoubtedly  met  with 
his  death  at  the  hands  of  Chuck's  em- 
ployer. 

Alter  a  time  the  man  suspected  that 
Chuck  knew  something  of  his  secret. 

But  he  never  said  anything  to  Chuck. 

He  had  his  own  plans,  and  he  was  evi- 
dently biding  his  time. 

He  was  peculiarly  kind  to  the  negro, 
and  often  went  out  of  his  way  to  be  of 
service  to  Chuck. 

But  his  time  came. 

Chuck,  who  was  no  swimmer,  fell  from 
one  of  the  rivsr  wharves  of  St.  Louis  into 
the  then  swollen  waters  of  the  Missis- 
sippi. 

His  employer,  standing  by,  jumped  into 
the  water  and  rescued  Chuck. 

It  was  no  particular  effort  for  the  man, 
who  was  a  stout  swimmer,  but  it  placed 
Chuck  under  an  obligation  to  him.  just 
the  same. 

And  right  well  it  served  his  purpose. 

He  was  no  longer  kind  or  generous. 

He  was  cold,  cruel  and  harsh  in  the  ex- 
treme. 


12 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


That  evening  he  called  Chuck  into  his 
room  and  locked  the  door. 

"Get  down  on  your  knees,"  he  said 
sternly. 

Chuck  did  so. 

"Take  this  in  your  hand,"  he  con- 
tinued, handing  Chuck  a  Bible. 

The  negro  obeyed. 

"Now,"  said  the  man,  "kiss  the  Book 
and  call  on  God  to  be  your  witness  that 
you  will  never  mention  my  name  to  any- 
one who  is  a  stranger  to  me  without  my 
permission,  and  that  you  will  never,  so 
help  you  God,  say  a  single  word  to  a  living 
soul  about  my  affairs  or  my  past  history. 
Remember,  I  saved  your  life  this  very 
day!    Now,  swear!" 

Horror-struck  and  tremblingly  the 
negro  took  the  oath.  He  felt  that  he 
could  not  do  otherwise. 

"Go,"  said  the  man;  "I  am  through 
with  you.  You  can  go  to  the  d^vil  or 
wherever  else  you  please.  Only,  bear  in 
mind  that  if  you  ever  dome  a  bad  turn 
or  break  your  oath  I'll  shoot  you  as  I 
would  a  dog— and  you  know  I'm  a  fine 
shot!" 

When  Chuck  had  told  Ned  this  much 
of  his  story  he  went  on: 

"Mars'  Ned,  sah,  I  earn'  nevah  tell  dat 
man's  name,  sah,  'cos  he  shoot  me,  suah, 
sah.  But  ef  you  kin  guess  who  he  am, 
sah,  dat  ain't  dis  yer  niggah's  funeral, 
sah!  Fer  instance,  sah,  dat  ar  man  what 
shoot  poor  Mars'  Sheldon  last  summer. 
Now  he's  a  bad  'un,  Mars' Ned.  He  means 
bad  to  you,  sah,  for  suah.  So  look  out, 
Mars'  Ned,  look  out.  I  ain't  jes'  a  talk- 
in',  sah.     Listen!" 

Here  Chuck  put  his  mouth  to  Ned's 
ear  and  whispered  very  low: 

"You  jes'  tell  de  Colonel,  sah,  dat  a 
spy  'listed  into  dis  yer  bery  regiment  dis 
yer  mawnin.  You  jes'  help  de  Colonel, 
Mars'  Ned,  an'  1  guess  you'll  find  him 
easy.  Now,  Mars'  Ned,  I'll  have  to  go. 
Good-by,  sah,  and  good  luck.  Any  ap- 
ples or  bananas,  gem'men?  By  de  way, 
Mars'  Ned,  here's  a  letter  what  I  brought 
d'rect  from  Mars'  Turrell  at  Muggle- 
town."  

CHAPTER  X. 

A     DESERTER. 

Ned  glanced  at  the  soiled  and  travel- 
worn  letter  which  Chuck  handed  him. 

He  supposed  it  was  a  gossipy  epistle 
from  his  guardian,  the  old  lawyer,  and  he 
knew  he  would  enjoy  reading  a  letter 
from  the  old  town  which  he  had  not  seen 
for  almost  a  year. 

Not  that  he  would  be  the  first  to  read 
the  letter.  Dear  no,  not  in  those  war 
times. 

The  seal  had  been  broken  long  since, 


and  the  letter  had  been  closely  read  a 
dozen  times  by  as  many  officers  and  sen- 
tries, both  Federal  and  Confederate. 

In  war  times  letters  were  considered 
pesky  things,  and  a  man  who  carried  a 
letter  was  in  great  danger  of  being  ar- 
rested for  a  spy.  '    • 

However,  this  letter  had  at  last  reached 
its  rightful  owner,  and  now  it  was  thrust 
into  that  owner's  pocket,  to  be  read  at  a 
more  convenient  season. 

Ned  had  important  work  on  hand. 

A  spy  was  in  the  ranks. 

Ned  firmly  believed  Chuck,  wrho  had 
no  object  in  deceiving  him. 

Beside,  from  what  Chuck  had  said, 
he  had  good  reason  to  believe  that 
this  spy  was  the  scoundrel  who  had 
shot  poor  Jemmy  Sheldon  and  then 
passed  off  counterfeit  money  on  Charley 
Stiles;  the  same  rascal  who  had  at- 
tempted to  rob  him  of  the  maps  on  that 
memorable  night  when  he  was  executing 
a  commission  for  General  Dixon.  Un- 
doubtedly, too,  the  same  man  had  been 
Chuck's  employer  in  St.  Louis,  forcing 
from  the  ignorant  and  frightened  negro 
that  oath  of  secrecy.  A  professional  cut- 
throat, adventurer,  scoundrel  and  spy. 

Ned  was  anxious  to  discover  a  spy,  for 
the  reason  that  a  spy  was  dangerous,  and 
should  be  discovered  and  punished  in  a 
military  way. 

He  wished  particularly  to  discover  this 
fellow,  because  he  had  cruelly  and  un- 
warrantedly  killed  his  old  playmate. 

And  there  was  another  reason. 

Ned  could  not  help  thinking  that  the 
man,  whoever  he  was,  had  some  private 
and  peculiar  grudge  against  himself. 

What  the  grudge  might  be,  Ned  had 
no  reasonable  idea;  but  he  could  not  rid 
himself  of  the  notion. 

He  felt  positive  that  the  man  could  tell 
him  something  that  would  be  of  more 
than  passing  interest  to  him. 

He  resolved  to  learn  all  that  he  could. 

Ned's  first  duty  was  to  walk  to  the 
Colonel's  quarters  in  the  field  hospital. 

He  was  admitted,  and  saluted  his  chief. 

"Good-evening,  Lieutenant." 

"  Sergeant,  sir,"  corrected  Ned,  respect- 
fully. 

"It's  all  right,  Lieutenant,"  persisted 
Colonel  Barker,  smilingly;  "here  is  the 
last  general  order,  just  out.  Allow  me 
to  congratulate  you." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  Can  we  be  alone  for 
a  few  minutes?  I  have  important  in- 
formation, sir." 

"  Certainly;  but  if  it  concerns  the  regi- 
ment Major  Black  had  better  be  present. 
I  cannot  attend  actively  to  any  matter 
for  a  few  days,  1  fear.  Just  step  out  and 
fetch  the  Major,  will  you,  Trinkner?" 

Even  in  the  short  walk  from  the  hos 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


13 


pital  to  Major  Black's  tent  Ned  was  be- 
sieged with  congratulations  from  his" 
brother  officers,  and  by  the  men  in  the 
ranks. 

When  he  and  the  Colonel  and  Major 
Black  were  at  last  together,  Ned  told  his 
story. 

"Major,"  said  the  Colonel,  "attend  to 
this  matter  at  once.  Lieutenant  Trink- 
ner  will  assist  you.  If  you  discover  any- 
thing, take  everything  to  the  General, 
for  him  to  deal  with." 

Major  Black  sent  out  a  picket-guard  to 
bring  in  all  the  recruits  enlisted  in  the 
last  forty-eight  hours. 

They  returned  with  six  men. 

Ned  eyed  them  all  closely. 

"  Well,  Lieutenant?"  said  the  Major. 

"  My  man  is  not  here,  sir,"  whispered 
Ned,  in  a  disappointed  tone. 

"Are  these  all  the  recruits?"  asked  the 
Major  of  the  officer  of  the  guard. 

"  There  is  one  missing,  sir.  There  were 
seven." 

"  Missing!    What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Deserted  since  sundown,  sir." 

"What  kind  of  a  man  was  he?" 

"Tall,  with  a  lean,  lanky  appearance, 
but  really  very  broad-shouldered.  A 
clean-shaven  face,  with  a  hard  look,  sir." 

"Any  special  marks  on  him?" 

"A  blue  mark  under  his  eye,  probably 
caused  by  the  discharge  of  some  gun- 
powder." 

"  The  very  man,  Major,"  said  Ned,  with 
much  vexation;  "he  ought  to  be  cap- 
tured, sir."    ' 

But  although  search  was  made,  nothing 
was  seen  of  the  deserter.     . y 

Ned  felt  very  down-hear/ecj.  /His  vexa- 
tion at  the  loss  of  this  j/py  was  greater 
than  the  pleasure  he  expe;f!«*nced  at  being 
promoted  to  be  a  commissioned  officer. 

He  went  back  to  his  tent  aiid  polled  out 
lawyer  Turrell's  letter,  ^aafri 


CHAPTER  XI. 

NED   RECEIVES  A  LETTER. 

If  Ned  felt  vexed  when  he  threw  him- 
self upon  his  blanket  in  the  tent,  he  be- 
came still  more  so  as  he  perused  the  con- 
tents of  Squire  Turrell's  letter. 

For  this  is  what  the  old  lawyer  said: 

My  Dear  Ned: — I  haven't  very  much 
news  for  you.  You  know  very  well  that 
Muggletown  never  was  much  of  a  place 
for  the  manufacture  of  news.  About  this 
time  it  is  worse  than  ever.  All  the  news 
is  right  around  you,  and  I  wish  you  could 
find  time  to  drop  me  a  letter  once  in 
awhile.  However,  I  have  a  couple  of 
items  for  you.  The  first  will,  I  doubt 
not,  cause  you  to  laugh  at  my  expense. 


I  am  no  longer  a  Rebel  sympathizer.  I 
cannot  see  the  Stars  and  Stripes  fired 
upon  and  dragged  in  the  dust  by  those 
Confeds  without  my  bile  rising.  There- 
fore when  we  met  again  we  will  drink 
(you  naming  the  drinks)  success  to  the 
Union  armies.  Now,  Ned,  for  the  other 
piece  of  news.  Along  about  New  Year  a 
man  called  on  me  and  demanded  the 
Trinkner  estates.  He  was  a  tall,  spare 
man  with  long  hair,  tufty  beard,  and 
heavy  mustache.  He  said  he  was  your 
father.  He  offered  to  produce  undeni- 
able proof,  and  wanted  to  make  an  affi- 
davit before  a  notary.  Of  course,  Ned,  I 
knew  your  father  pretty  well,  and  this  fel- 
low certainly  resembled  him  in  many  re- 
spects, and  showed  me  one  or  two  things 
which  your  father  carried  away  with  him 
when  he  started  for  California.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  were  many  points  of 
difference  which  seemed  to  convince  me 
that  the  fellow  was  an  impostor.  At  all 
events,  I  positively  refused  to  take  any 
action.  I  told  him  that  his  son,  meaning 
you,  was  still  alive,  and  that  he  had  bet- 
ter look  you  up.  He  said  he  would  do  so, 
and  would  see  me  again.  But  I  have  not 
clapped  eyes  on  him  from  that  day  to  this. 
Have  you  seen  anything  of  the  man,  Ned? 
If  not,  that  settles  the  matter  in  my 
mind.  1  have  good  reason  for  thinking 
the  fellow  a  dyed-in-the-wool  scoundrel 
who  tried  to  play  a  big  game  of  bluff 
with  me.  But  never  fear,  Ned.  I'm  a 
pretty  old  rooster,  I  know;  but  the 
"smart  alecks"  will  have  to  get  up  be- 
fore daybreak  to  get  ahead  of  me,  all  the 
same.  I'll  take  good  care  of.  your  prop- 
erty and  interests.  By  the  way,  Ned, 
don't  you  want  me  to  .send  you  some 
money?  There  is  a  tidy  sum  in  the  bank 
here  to  your  credit.  Draw  on  me  for 
what  you  need,  for  I  know  the  army  pay  , 
is  small  enough. 

Hope  you  are  well  and  sound  in  limb. 
Yours  sincerely, 

Isaac  Turrell. 

P.  S. — The  man  had  a  curious  blue 
mark  under  left  eye. 

"Confound  the  luck,"  exclaimed  our 
friend,  "it  seems  as  if  that  fellow  is  in- 
tent on  doing  me  some  injury,  and  yet  I 
cannot  catch  up  with  him.  I  begin  to 
smell  a  rat.  I  can  put  what  I  know  with 
Chuck's  story  and  what  the  Squire  has 
told  me.  I  will  sift  that  fellow  and  his 
rascality  through  and  through,  if  it  takes 
every  cent  I  have  and  half  my  lifetime. 
A  cloud  has  rested  on  my  father's  mem- 
ory for  years.  I  knew  that  what  folks 
said  about  him  killed  my  mother,  al- 
though she  never  murmured.  They  say 
he  deserted  us.  It  is  a  lie!  He  met  with 
foul  play,  and  if  not  at  the  hands  of  this 


14 


GEN.   DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

NED  UNDER  ORDERS  AGAIN. 

But  interested  as  was  Ned  in  his  own 
private  affairs,  be  had  very  little  oppor- 
tunity to  attend  to  them. 

There  was  marching  or  fighting:  to  be 
done  right  along,  and  a  good  deal  ot  extra 
duty  fell  to  our  hero. 

He  was  snoring  soundly,  wrapped  in 
his  blanket,  one  night  early  in  the  fall. 

.Some  months  had  passed  since  the 
appearance  of  Chuck  in  the  camp,  and 
Ne  1  had  heard  nothing  more  of  the  man 
who  had  done  him  and  his  friend  so  much 
wrong. 

He  had  not  even  received  any  sort  of 
word  from  lawyer  Turrelf. 

But  the  time  had  seemed  to  fly  past,  so 
busy  was  he  with  his  military  duties. 

As  remarked,  Lieutenant  Ned  Trinkner 
was  snoring  soundly. 

Suddenly  his  sleep  was  disturbed. 


scoundrelly  cut-throat    and    spy,    he  at 
least   knows  more  than  he  cares  to  ten;  ' 
Well,  here  goes  for  a  commencement. " 

Ned  jumped  up  and  borrowed  pencil 
and  paper. 

For  several  minutes  he  wrote  hurriedly 
and  earnestly. 

Before  he  turned  in  to  sleep  he  had 
penned  the  following  to  his  friend  and 
guardian,  old  lawyer  Turrell. 

Dear  Friend: — I  have  just  received 
your  letter,  which  Chuck  carried  in  his 
pocket  for  six  weeks  before  it  reached  me. 
The  man  who  represented  himself  as  my 
father  is  a  liar  and  a  scoundrel.  He  is 
worse  than  that,  as  I  hope  to  prove  be- 
fore long.  He  is  everything  that  is  bad, 
and  I  have  a  long  score  to  settle  with 
him.  He  passed  in  this  vicinity  under 
the  name  of  Jake  Watson.  If  there  is 
money  enough  to  my  credit,  I  want  you 
to  go  at  my  expense  to  Pittsburg,  Cin- 
cinnati and  St.  Louis.  Look  up  a  smart 
detective  in  each  place,  and  offer  a  thou- 
sand dollars  reward  for  the  capture  of 
this  scamp  Watson,  alias  Smith,  who  is 
trying  to  pass  himself  off  as  Richard 
Trinkner.  I  will  swear  out  a  warrant  if 
necessary,  or  you  can.  If  you  cannot  get 
hold  of  me,  Charley  Stiles  will  identify 
him  as  an  outlaw  of  the  worst  kind. 
Glad  you  are  well.  I  am  doing  nicely. 
Yours  respectfully, 

Edward  Trinkner, 
2d  Lieut.  "B,"Co. 

Kentucky  Skirmishers. 

"That  last  line,  under  my  name,  will 
tickle  the  old  gent,"  said  Ned,  as  he 
tnrned  in  to  sleep. 


Somebody  was  poking  him  in  the  ribs. 
It  was  the  Captain  of  his  company,  a 
thorough     good    fellow  and    a  staunch 
•friend  to  Ned. 

"Hello,  there,  Trinkner,1'  he  shouted; 
"  wake  up.  my  boy!" 

Ned  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  up 
rather  sheepishly. 

He  had  been  indulging  in  pleasant 
dreams  of  the  old  days  of  his  boyhood, 
when  he  and  Charley  Stiles  had  led 
opposing  armies  to  fierce  but  bloodless 
combat. 

"  Come,  get  a  move  on  you,"  said  the 
Captain,  as  he  playfully  jerked  Ned  out 
of  his  blanket.  "  1  never  saw  anyone  like 
you,  Ned;  you  are  always  in  luck.  Here's 
the  General  sent  over  to  our  Colonel  for 
an  officer  and  escort  to  carry  important 
dispatches  to  General  Dixon." 

"  What  then?"  said  Ned,  wdio  was  slowly 
awaking.  "What's  that  got  to  do  with 
you  waking  a  fellow  out  of  a  first-class 
snooze?" 

"Do?  Why.  man  alive,  you  might 
have  known  that  the  Colonel  would 
select  you  for  the  job!  Upon  my  word. 
Ned,  you're  the  luckiest  kind  of  a  fellow! 
Here  have  we  poor  no  accounts  got  to  lay 
around  in  camp  or  march  like  mule-', 
while  you  have  a  pleasant  little  ride  of 
about  sixty  miles  across  the  country.  It's 
no  wonder  you  get  promoted.  If  you  do 
this  job  all  right  1  suppose  you'll  go  up  a 
peg— nerhaps  two.  By  the  way,  you  are 
acquainted  with  General  Dixon,  are  you 
not?"  v 

"Slightly,"  said  Ned.  "  I  served  under 
him  for.about  forty-eight  hours.  I  dare 
say,  though,*  he  has  forgotten  me  long 
ag'>."  ^ 

"Never  yo^<  fear,  my  boy;  Dixon  isn't 
that  sort  o,f<a  man.  Well.  I  hope  you'll 
get  back  4.11  right,  Trinkner.  You  had 
better  -hurrv  up  and  report  to  the 
Colon  efekjpr 
All  thr^Pie  Ned  had  been  dressing. 
In  a  minute  more  he  stood  before 
Colonel  Barker. 

"Lieutenant,"  said  the  Colonel,  "I 
have  orders  from  the  General  to  send  you 
o\ev  to  General  Dixon,  who  is  in  com- 
mand of  the  engineering  corps,  at  work 
constructing  the  railroad  about  ten  miles 
this  side  of  Knoxville  The  distance  is 
about  sixty-live  miles  from  here,  and  you 
will  have  to  exercise  great  care  to  avoid 
capture.  The  country  is  infested  with 
Rebel  raiders  and  sharp-shooters,  to  say 
nothing  of  bushwhackers.  There  is  no 
army  between  us  and  General  Dixon,  but 
to  be  on  the  safe  side  against  Rebel  strag- 
glers yon  will  take  an  escort  of  ten  picked 
men.  Of  course,  you  will  go  afoot.  Horses 
are  too  much  risk.  Avoid  roads  and 
highways,  and  be  as  expeditious  as  possi- 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


i5 


ble.  Take  two  days'  rations  with  you 
and  return  immediately,  unless  General 
Dixon  advises  you  not  to  do  so.  He  will 
ration  you  for  your  return  trip.  Here  are 
the  papers  for  General  Dixon.  If  you 
run  any  risk  of  capture  destroy  the  dis- 
patches. Start  at  once,  Trinkner.  I  or- 
dered your  escort,  and  I  think  you  will 
find  then  all  ready.  Good-by,  Lieuten- 
ant." 

Ned  saluted  his  Colonel,  shook  hands 
with  him  and  bade  him  goodnight. 

Outside  the  Colonel's  tent  he  found  his 
little  band  of  trusty  men  waiting  for 
him. 

They  all  carried  repeating  rifles  and  re- 
volvers, and  were  well  supplied  with  am- 
munition as  well  as  rations. 

Ned  had  his  trusty  sword  and  two  re- 
volvers, one  of  the  latter  being  General 
Dixon's  gift,  which  Ned  now  looked  upon 
as  an  old  friend. 

Silently  the  little  company  stole 
through  the  sleeping  camp,  giving  the 
password  again  and  again  to  the  sentries 
and  pickets,  who  saluted  them  as  they 
passed. 

It  was  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  as 
Ned  and  his  men  gave  the  countersign  to 
the  last  picket.  , 

As  they  passed  outside  the  lines  of  the 
Union  army  Ned  felt  the  importance  of 
his  errand.  , 

But  he  knew  nothing  of  fear. 
He  resolved  to  deliver  those  papers  in 
his  breast  to  General  Dixon  or  else  deliver 
up  his  own  life. 

11  We  will  march  for  three  hours,  boys, 
and  then  take  a  rest.  No  talking. 
March!" 

And  away  they  went,  over  as  wild  and 
rough  a  country  as  anyone  wants  to  see. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

NED  MEETS  CHARLEY  IN  BATTLE. 

Ned  Trinkner  looked  for  almost  any- 
thing, and  he  was  quite  prepared  to  meet 
any  and  every  surprise. 

Indeed,  Ned  always  ccnsidered  that  a 
soldier,  in  time  of  war,  should  take  noth- 
ing as  a  surprise. 

He  believed  in  the  motto,  "hope  for 
the  best,  and  prepare  for  the  worst." 

He  knew  very  well  that  when  he 
started  out  on  that  long  march,  practi- 
cally alone,  he  carried  his  life  in  his  hand. 

But  there  was  something  which  Lieu- 
tenant Trinkner  prized  much  more  than 
his  life. 

Something  which  was  dearer  to  him 
than  fame,  or  rank,  or  riches. 

His  honor. 

He  had  pledged  his  word  to  deliver  im- 
portant, papers  from  the  General  of  the 


army  to  which  he  belonged   to  Gene 
Dixon. 

If  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  do  that, 
Ned  Trinkner  proposed  to  do  it. 

The  secret  of  Ned's  success  was  his 
manliness,  his  honesty  of  purpose  and  his 
unflinching  bravery. 

Here  was  he,  a  mere  lad  of  only  seven- 
teen years,  selected  for  a  most  important 
duty." 

Placed  in  command  of  ten  picked  vet- 
erans, not  one  of  whom  but  was  pleased 
to  march  under  the  popular  young  Lieu- 
tenant. 

Why? 

Because  they  respected  him. 

Because  they  knew  he  would  ask  none 
of  them  to  go  where  he  would  not  go 
himself. 

Because  they  knew  he  was  afraid  of  no 
man. 

Because  they  knew  there  was  nothing 
they  could  do  in  the  way  of  fighing 
which  Lieutenant  Trinkner  could  not 
also  do. 

They  were  glad  to  go  with  him,  be- 
cause they  knew  he  was  in  every  sense 
one  of  themselves,  and — because  they 
loved  him. 

So  when  he  ordered  a  three  hours' 
march,  they  gladly  obeyed. 

Steadily  they  trudged  along  in  single 
file,  Ned  at  the  head. 

They  asked  no  questions. 

They  simply  and  absolutely  followed 
their  leader. 

At  four  o'clock  Ned  called  a  halt. 

They  were  in  dense  woods,  and  as  yet 
there  was  no  sign  of  the  daylight  which 
was  near  at  hand. 

"  Fifteen  minutes' rest," said  Ned.  "We 
will  then  march  for  two  hours  more,  and 
hide  our.selves  away  until  evening." 

At  a  quarter  after  four  the  little  band 
started  again. 

They  had  not  marched  many  minutes 
when  they  came  to  a  stretch  of  open 
country. 

In  the  east  they  could  see  streaks  of 
gray  light. 

In  the  west  they  could  see — gray  uni- 
forms! 

Ned  and  his  men  had  marched  straight 
into  a,  trap! 

Theiv  was  no  retreat. 

The  Confederates  were  a  party  of  cav- 
alry—perhaps a  dozen,  or  possibly  a  score 
of  them. 

They  were  not  fifty  yards  away. 

'"Steady,  boys,"  said  Ned,  laying  his 
hand  on  his  favorite  pistol. 

"Look  to  your  rifles,"  he  whispered, 
hurriedly.  "One  volley  when  I  say  fire — 
after  that  your  revolvers.  Step  back- 
ward into  the  woods,  so  their  horses  will 
be  no  use.     Every  man  fight!" 


16 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


But  if  Ned  had  surprised  himself,  he 
had  also  surprised  the  Rebels. 

They  were  just  in  the  act  of  mounting 
after  two  or  three  hours'  rest. 

Their  leader  seemed  to  be  giving  many 
orders,  during  which  time  Ned  and  his 
men  took  advantage  of  the  delay  to  re- 
treat toward  the  woods. 

They  were  distant  perhaps  thirty  steps 
from  a  thick  clump  of  trees  when  they 
first  saw  the  cavalrymen. 

By  the  time  the  Rebel  officer  gave  the 
word  to  charee,' they  had  taken  at  least 
fifteen  backward  steps. 

"Charge!"  cried  the  Rebel  officer. 

"Be  ready,  boys,"  said  Ned,  quietly. 

On  came*  the  Rebs,  increasing  their 
speed  to  a  gallop. 

Half  way  to  where  Ned's  little  squad 
stood  in  line,  their  leader  yelled: 

"  Surrender!" 

Ned  had  his  answer  ready. 

"  Fire!"  he  shouted. 

Bang,  went  ten  rifles. 

One  Confederate  saddle  was  empty,  as 
a  Southern  trooper  fell  dead. 

Another  man  was  badly  wounded, 
while  yet  another  was  rendered  helpless 
by  a  dead  horse  rolling  over  on  him. 

By  this  time  our  friends  were  well  nigh 
under  cover  of  the  woods. 

The  Rebels  sprung  from  their  horses 
and  made  a  rush. 

The  two  parties  were  pretty  evenly 
matched  in  numbers. 

"Each  man  for  himself,"  cried  Ned. 
"This  will  be  a  hand-to-hand  tussle." 

Sure  enough,  it  was. 

Although  it  was  light  enough  to  see 
out  in  the  clearing,  just  as  soon  as  they 
got  back  under  cover  of  the  big  trees  the 
boys  could  barely  distinguish  the  blue 
uniforms  from  the  gray. 

In  half  a  minute  each  man  had  found 
an  opponent. 

It  was  like  half  a  score  of  separate  and 
distinct  wrestling  matches. 

If  was  not  a  question  of  who  was  the 
best  shot,  or  who  was  the  best  swords- 
man. 

It  was  a  simple  case  of  animal  strength. 

Ned  himself  found  that  he  was  tussling 
with  the  leader  of  the  Rebels. 

He  soon  discovered,  too,  that  the  Rebel 
officer  was  no  mean  opponent. 

They  clinched  and  grappled  with  each 
other. 

They  struggled  and  squirmed. 

They  stumbled  and  staggered. 

First  one  fell  on  his  knee  and  then  the 
other. 

"Yield!"  muttered  the  Rebel  officer, 
hoarsely,  when  he  seemed  to  have  the 
best  of  it  for  a  moment. 

"No!"  roared  Ned,  byway  of  reply. 
"Yield  yourself!" 


Even  as  our  friend  spoke  the  order  of 
things  was  reversed. 

By  an  adroit  twist  of  his  arm,  Ned 
threw  his  antagonist  to  the  ground. 

Placing  his  knee  on  the  beaten  man, 
Trinkner  quickly  drew  his  second  pistol 
and  pointed  it  at  his  foe's  face. 

"Surrender!"  he  cried. 

But  the  Southerner  shook  his  head. 

"Man  alive,  don't  you  see  I  have  you 
foul?  I  don't  want  to  kill  you  this  way. 
Throw  up  the  sponge!" 

"Great  Heavens!"  said  the  fallen  man 
in  a  wild  tone  of  voice — "you — you  are 
Ned,  Ned  Trinkner!" 

Still  Ned  did  not  recognize  his  man, 
although  his  voice  seemed  familiar. 

Without  removing  his  knee  from  the 
Rebel's  chest,  Ned  lowered  his  face. 

The  light  was  beginning  to  pierce 
through  the  woods. 

"My  God!"  he  shouted,  as  a  thrill  of 
horror  passed  through  him — "Charley 
Stiles,  my  old  chum!  Heaven  and  earth. 
Charley,  you  must  surrender!  Don't,  for 
the  love  of  Heaven,  force  me  to  shoot 
you!" 

Ned  cast  his  eye  around,  and  saw  that 
with  one  or  two  exceptions  his  men  had 
the  best  of  this  strange  wrestling  skir- 
mish. 

"  Don't  you  see,  Charley,  you  are 
beaten  all  around?  Give  up,  boy,  before 
anyone  is  killed.  I  will  parole  the  whole 
of  you,  at  once.  I  have  that  authority. 
Will  you  yield?" 

"Yes,  Ned,  I  will.  This  is  tough,"  in  u> 
tered  Charley.  "I  never  thought  you 
would  whip  me  this  way,  Ned!  Here, 
take  my  pistol;  I  dropped  my  sword  over 
yonder.  1  see  you  are  a  Lieutenant,  Ned, 
by  your  uniform." 

Captain  Stiles  (for  such  was  Charley's 
rank  in  the  Confederate  cavalry)  stood 
up  and  shouted  aloud: 

"Boys,  let  up!  Lieutenant  Trinkner 
has  my  sword." 

The  Rebels  recognized  the  voice  of 
their  young  leader  and  at  once  ceased  the 
struggle. 

They  at  once  signed  the  parole,  while 
Ned's  men  broke  up  their  carbines  and 
swords,  and  stuck  the  captured  pistols 
into  their  own  belts. 

While  the  men  stood  around  compar- 
ing notes,  and  attending  to  the  Rebel 
dead  and  wounded,  Ned  and  Charley  had 
quite  a  talk  over  all  that  had  transpired 
since  they  last  saw  each  other. 

They  had  neither  of  them  been  to 
Muggletown  since  the  opening  of  the 
war. 

"  Charley,"  said  Ned,  "  do  you  remem- 
ber what  you  said  when  you  wished  me 
good -by,'  as  our  brvs  marched  out  of 
Muggletown  ?" 


GEN.   DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


17 


"No;  what  was  it?" 

"You  said  we  might  meet  to  fight  in 
deail  earnest.'" 

"Well,  I  guess  we  did,"  said  Charley, 
with  a  smile.  "  And  it  was  a  close  call 
for  me,  Ned." 

"  Indeed  it  was.  I'm  sorry  you  fellows 
will  have  to  walk  away  from  here.  I 
shall  have  to  comply  with  the  rules  and 
seize  your  horses." 

"All  right,  old  fellow,  don't  apologize. 
It's  the  fortunes  of  war.     Good-by,  Ned." 

They  shook  hands  silently. 

Ned,  with  his  usual  luck,  rode  away  on 
a  fine  horse  at  the  head  of  his  little  com- 
pany, who  also  bestrode,  awkwardly 
enough,  the  captured  animals.  They 
even  had  four  extra  horses,  which  some 
of  the  men  led. 

As  for  the  paroled  prisoners,  they  gazed 
sadly  enough  at  their  conquerors  as  they 
rode  away. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

NED    AND    GENERAL    DIXON. 

"Ah!  Lieutenant,"  said  General  Dixon, 
pleasantly,  as  Ned  presented  himself  at 
that  officer's  headquarters.  "  I  am  glad 
you  got  through  with  these  papers,  as 
they  are  of  the  utmost  importance.  I 
don't  forget  you  did  me  a  similar  service 
once  before,  Trinkner." 

Although  an  old  soldier  by  this  time, 
Ned's  face  flushed  with  pleasure  at  these 
warm  words  of  commendation. 

It  was  no  small  matter  to  be  remem- 
bered and  commended  by  a  man  as  high 
in  authority  as  General  Dixon. 

"By  the  way,"  continued  the  General, 
as  he  scanned  the  dispatches  brought  by 
Ned,  "the  last  time  you  did  me  some 
service  you  had  a  hard  time  of  it?  Came 
pretty  near  losing  the  papers  and  your 
life,  too?" 

"Yes,  sir.  And  the  same  thing  hap- 
pened this  trip.  But  I  pulled  out  all 
right,  and  managed  to  capture  a  few 
good  horses." 

"  Good  for  you!  Now  if  you  will  come 
up  here  this  evening,  when  I  am  not  quite 
so  busy,  I  will  tell  you  something  that  I 
think  may  interest  you  a  good  deal." 

You  may  be  sure  that  Ned  showed  up  at 
the  General's  headquarters,  which  were 
located  in  a  small  shanty,  later  in  the 
day. 

.  ""We  will  consider  ourselves  off  duty 
now,  Trinkner,"  said  the  General,  who 
was  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  men.  "I 
suppose  if  you  were  at  home  I  should 
frown  at  the  very  notion.  But  as  we  are 
at  the  front,  and  you  area  commissioned 
officer,  I  will  ask  you  to  join  me  in  a 
cigar." 


"Much  obliged," said  our  young  friend, 
with  much  respect.  "I  leave  cigars  for 
my  betters.  I'm  only  a  boy,  you  know, 
sir,  and  smoking  might  stop  my  growth." 

"Well,  well,"  laughed  General  Dixon, 
"I  think  I  like  you  all  the  better  for 
your  sound  judgment.  Only,  when  you 
do  indulge,  my  lad,  tackle  an  honest 
cigar,  and  don't  lower  yourself  to  cigar- 
ettes. Now  then,"  he  continued,  as  he 
blew  the  first  puffs  of  smoke  away  from 
his  face,  "let  us  leave  military  matters 
for  awhile,  and  talk  over  other  matters. 
I  believe  I  shall  have  to  call  you  Ned;  it 
seems  to  come  natural!" 

"Do  so,  by  all  means,  sir,"  replied  Ned, 
who  saw  a  good  deal  to  like  in  the  vet- 
eran chief  of  engineers. 

"  Very  well,  Ned.  Two  or  three  things 
have  happened  of  late  which  have  set  me 
thinking  about  you  and  about  a  man  I 
once  ran  across.     Your  mother  is  dead?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  your  father,  Ned?" 

"i"  believe  he  is  dead,  General.  More 
than  that,  I  believe  he  has  been  dead 
many  years." 

"How  many,  Ned?" 

"Well,  quite  fourteen,  I  should  judge." 

"So  should  I." 

"You,  General — you?" 

"Yes,  but  go  on.  I  will  explain  later, 
when  you  have  answered  my  questions. 
Tell  me,  why  do  you  think  him  dead?" 

"Well,  sir,  it  is  most  of  fifteen  years 
since  my  father  left  home  to  go  with  the 
rest  of  the  Forty-niners  to  seek  wealth  in 
California." 

"  When  did  you  hear  from  him  last?" 

"Ah,  that  is  my  point,  sir.  We  never 
heard  from  him;  and  although  I  was 
so  small  at  the  time,  it  is  as  plain  as  I  can 
remember  anything  that  my  father  was 
too  kind  and  good  to  my  mother  and  me 
to  basely  desert  us." 

"What  do  you  think  then,  Ned?" 

"  I  think  that  he  died  before  he  ever 
reached  California — possibly  murdered 
on  the  plains." 

"Ah!  you  think  he  was  murdered? 
Why?" 

"I  don't  know,  General.  But  I  feel 
certain  that  my  father  met  with  foul  play. 
He  carried  with  him  considerable  cur- 
rency, for  we  were  always  pretty  well  off, 
though  he  wanted  to  be"  very  rich.  More 
thaji  that,  I  think  I  shall  live  not  only  to 
prove  the  truth  of  my  suspicion,  but  to 
show  up  the  scoundrel  who  slew  my  poor 
father!" 

"Then,"  said  the  General,  "you  sus- 
pect some  one?" 

"Yes.  That  is  to  say  I  am  confident 
there  is  a  man  alive  to-day  who,  if  he  did 
not  actually  murder  and  rob  iny  father, 
was  a  party  to  and  witness  of  th«  d«#d." 


18 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


"  So  do  I,  Ned,  my  boy;  so  do  I!" 

"Tell  me,  General,"  said  Ned,  with 
much  eagerness.  "Pray  te.ll  uie  the 
meaning  of  this?  Did  you  ever  see  my 
father?" 

"  Yes,  boy,  I  did,  though  I  assure  you 
we  were  never  acquainted.  And,  what  is 
more,  I  have  seen  Ins  murderer."      . 

"Without  doubt?" 

"Without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt!" 

"Recently?" 

"Within  three  weeks.     Listen." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    GKNERAjVS    STORY. 

"In  forty-nine,  Ned,  I  was  a  Colonel 
of  Engineers,  and  was  in  charge  of  a 
large  Government  surveying  and  engi- 
neering party.  We  were  out  in  the  terri- 
tories, laying  out  roads  and  building 
bridges. 

"  I  was  in  charge  of  a  large  district,  ex- 
tending into  Colorado,  and  had  several 
corps  under  me. 

"At  first  when  we  went  out  there  it 
was  rather  dull,  for  we  seldom  saw  any- 
one beside  ourselves  and  Indians. 

"But  when  the  rush  for  the  gold-fields 
on  the  Pacific  slope  commenced,  hardly 
a  day  passed  that  we  did  not  see  compa- 
nies "of  emigrants  bound  West. 

"Especially  was  this  the  case  when  we 
all  came  down  to  work  on  one  of  the 
great  Western  trails. 

"One  day  a  handsome  man,  riding  a 
powerful  horse,  rode  up  to  my  quarters. 

"I  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  man  was 
sick. 

" 'Colonel,1  he  said,  'have  you  got  a 
doctor  in  your  crowd?1 

"  'Sorry,1  I  replied,  'but  our  surgeon  is 
how  sixty  miles  away  'tending  a  very  sick 
man!1 

" 'Well,1  he  said,  'I'm  a  very  sick  man 
myself,  and  if  I  can't  get  some  medicine, 
and  have  to  sleep  out  on  the  plains 
To-night,  I'm  afraid  I  shall  be  worse  than 
sick.' 

"  'Better  hobble  your  horse  right  here,1 
I  said.  'You  can  sleep  in  my  tent  to- 
night. What's  the  trouble?  I  have  a 
small  medicine  chest,  and  perhaps  I  can 
doctor  you.1 

"  He  "told  me  what  his  ailment  was  and 
I  gave  him  a  dose. 

"  He  lay  down  and  was  soon  sleeping 
soundly. 

"When  I  awoke  in  the  morning  my 
guest  was  already  up  and  dressed. 

"  '  Colonel,1  he  said,  briskly,  '  I'm  a  well 
man.  You  had  better  quit  soldiering 
and  go  into  the  hospital  business.1 

"We  both  laughed,  and  after  drinking 
a  cup  of  coffee,  he  rose  to  go. 


"' Here,  Colonel,' he  said,  'I  suppose 
you  won't  accept  a  doctor's  fee;  but  here's 
a  trifle  which  you  can  help  some  poor 
cuss  along  with  some  time.' 

"  With  that  he  took  out  a  large  roll  of 
bills,  and  detached  a  ten  dollar  note  for 
me. 

"  I  took  it,  as  I  felt  it  would  please  him 
better,  but  I  remarked: 

"  '  You  ought  to  keep  that  out  of  sight, 
my  friend.  These  are  dangerous  times 
and  places,,  out  here.' 

"  He  laughed,  loudly. 

"' Never  fear,' he  said.  And  the  next 
minute  he  was  in  the  saddle  and  off. 

"  Exactly  twenty-four  hours  later  I  saw 
my  guest  again. 

"  He  was  four  miles  from  my  quarters, 
lying  at  the  roadside. 

"  He  was  dead. 

"Killed  by  a  pistol-ball  through  his 
brain. 

"  His  pockets  had  all  been  rifled. 

"  There  was  not  a  cent  of  money,  nor  a 
shred  of  paper  of  any  sort,  in  them. 

"I  sent  out  a  couple  of  my  men  to  bury 
the  poor  fellow,  and  before  they  buried 
him  I  thought  to  take — this." 

As  bespoke,  General  Dixon  threw  upon 
the  small  table  an  old  and  faded  stock- 
ing, upon  which,  in  almost  illegible  let- 
ters of  marking-ink  were  two  words. 

Ned  almost  staggered  from  his  seat  as 
he  read  them. 

For  these  were  the  words: 

Richard  Trixknkr. 

The  General  considerately  waited  for 
Ned  to  recover  his  composure,  and  then 
he  resumed: 

"  Remember,  Ned,  I  only  sent  for  this  n 
couple  cf  weeks  ago.  My  wife  sent  it  on 
from  Washington.  I  wanted  to  be  sure 
of  the  name,  and  I  will  now  tell  you  why. 

"  Less  than  a  month  ago,  a  man  pre- 
sented himself  to  me  for  a  pass.  He  said 
he  wished  to  pass  through  our  lines  on 
his  way  to  visit  his  son.  He  said  his  son 
was  Lieutenant  Trinkner,  of  the  Ken- 
tucky Skirmishers " 

"I  know  the  scoundrel!"  interrupted 
Ned. 

"Wait  a  moment,  my  boy.  I  told  him 
to  come  up  again,  and  then  I  set  to  think- 
ing. He  cauie  up  again  for  his  pass,  and 
I  asked  him  if  he  was  Richard  Trinkner. 
He  said  yes.  I  asked  him  if  he  ever 
crossed  the  plains.  Again  he  answered, 
yes.  Then  I  asked  him  if  he  still  had  a 
peculiar  ring  of  emerald  setting.  He 
said  yes,  and  actually  produced  the  ring 
which  had  attracted"  my  notice  on  the 
hand  of  my  sick  guest! 

"I  next  asked  him  if  he  remembered 
that  night  in  my  quarters,  when  I  d»c- 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


19 


tared  him.  But  there  I  proved  his  im- 
posture. He  contradicted  himself,  and 
lied  twenty  times.  1  made  up  my  mind 
that  he  was  the  murderer  and  robber  of 
your  father,  and  that,  for  reasons  of  his 
own,  he  was  impersonating  Richard 
Trinkner.  I  ought  to  base  placed  him 
under  arrest  there  and  then.  But  I  did 
not;  I  told  him  to  come  yet  again  for  the 
pass,  and  I  have  never  seen  him  since. 
Now,  wait  Ned,'1  continued  the  General. 
"  I  have  just  hired  a  new  negro  servant, 
who  is  inclined  to  be  chatty  when  I  am 
around.  He  has  told  me  all  about  a  man 
he  worked  for  in  St.  Louis,  and  of  things 
which  his  employer  used  to  say  in  his 
sleep.  The  man  my  negro,  Chuck,  worked 
for  is  this  self  same  man.  Now,  you  say 
you  have  seen  him?" 

"Yes,  sir;  at  least  twice.  He  is  the 
rascal  who  tried  to  rob  me  of  the  papers 
I  brought  to  you  at  Muggletown." 

"The  dickens  he  is!" 

"  The  same.*' 

"Then  it  Chuck  knows  him,  and  you 
know  him,  and  I  know  him — and  we  none 
of  us  know  any  good  of  him — we  ought 
to  catch  him  some  time." 

"Soon,  very  soon,  I  hope,  sir." 

"Rely  on  this,  Ned:  If  we  do  lay  hands 
on  him  again,  then  we  will  grip  him 
pretty  hard." 

•'  Amen,"  said  Ned,  as  he  bowed  him- 
self out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   CAPTURE. 

Ned  spent  several  days  of  rest  and 
recreation  about  General  Dixon's  quar- 
ters. 

He  had  many  a  chat  with  Chuck,  the 
negro. 

He  persuaded  the  darky  to  tell  over 
again  all  that  he  remembered  about  the 
man  he  worked  for  in  St.  Louis. 

He  tried  10  get  him  to  tell  his  name 
and  the  name  of  the  man  he  murdered  in 
his  dreams. 

But  he  was  entirely  unsuccessful. 

Chuck  was  obdurate. 

He  seemed  utterly  frightened  when  he 
approached  the  subject. 

The  fellow,  whoever  lie  was,  had  evi- 
dently worked  a  spell  on  the  ignorant 
colored  fellow. 

And  yet  Ned  was  more  convinced  than 
ever  that  Chuck's  rascal  and  his  own 
scoundrel  was  one  and  the  same  man. 

However,  Chuck  was  none  the  less  glad 
to  see  his  old  master's  grandson,  and  as 
he  was  now  the  Generals  cook,  he  made 
things  decidedly  pleasant. 

Chuck  was  an  expert  at  the  culinary 
art,  and  if  he  was  in  the  habit  of  asking 


no  questions,  so  that  he  got  plenty  of 
tender  chickens  and  fresh  vegetables — 
well,  that  was  Chuck's  ownbusiness. 

But  after  a  week  or  so  of  pleasant  and 
well-earned  rest,  General  Dixon  an- 
nouncd  to  Ned  that  he  had  received 
special  orders  from  Washington. 

He  was  detailed  to  proceed  to  the  army 
of  which  Ned's  regiment  formed  a  part, 
to  superintend  the  construction  of  sev- 
eral bridges  that  had  been  destroyed  by 
the  enemy. 

"It  is  considered  tolerably  safe  for  ine 
to  move  with  about  two  hundred  men," 
said  the  General.  "lou  can  go  along 
with  us,  Ned." 

"  Gladly,"  responded  our  hero. 

"You  can  act  as  guide,"  continued 
the  General.  "You  will  be  valuable,  for 
you  know  the  ticklish  places,  and  can 
put  us  on  oUr  guard  when  necessary." 

"That,  too,  1  will  gladly  do." 

In  due  course  the  little  company  set 
out. 

As  Ned's  own  squad  were  none  of  them 
good  hoi-semen,  he  left  the  horses,  which 
lie  had  captured  from  Captain  Stiles,  in 
a  safe  place. 

He  did  not  wish  to  be  forced  to  give  up 
his  prize. 

The  first  day's  march  was  uneventful 
enough. 

General  Dixon  and  his  staff  rode  their 
horses  at  a  slow  gate,  and  the  men  of  the 
engineering  corps  had  enough  to  do  to 
attend  to  the  transportation  of  their 
wagons,  implements  and  tools. 

Ned's  men  had  really  the  best  of  it. 

Therefore  when  they  camped  for  the 
night  in  a  secluded  spot,  it  was  deemed 
only  fair  that  Lieutenant  Trinkner's  men 
should  go  on  forage  duty. 

Ned  accompanied  his  men. 

After  wandering  slowly  and  carefully 
for  about  half  an  hour,  they  espied  a 
farm-house  of  the  better  class." 

"This  looks  like  a  probable  place  for 
getting  food  of  some  kind,"  said  Ned. 
"Let  us  go  up  and  see." 

When  they  were  within  two  hundred 
yards  of  the  house,  Ned  was  greatly  sur- 
prised to  see  a  girl  of  sixteen  or  seventeen 
years  run  toward  him  from  behind  some 
shrubbery. 

She  was  a  lovely  girl,  aud  yet  Ned 
could  see  at  a  glance  that  she  was  in 
trouble. 

Although  a  stranger,  Ned  was  gallant 
enough  to  feel  sorry  for  her. 

He  was  an  officer,  and  remembering 
that  an  officer  should  ever  be  a  gentle- 
man, his  first  impulse  was  to  tender  her 
some  assistance. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  touching  his 
cap.  "  I  see  you  are  worried  about  some- 
thing.    Can  I  aid  you?    Do  not  fear  us." 


20 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


"Oh,  sir,"  she  said,  forcing  back  her 
tears,  "  yonder  is  my  home,  and  it  is  in 
possession  of  four  ruffians.  The}7  have 
bound  and  gagged  my  poor  father,  whom 
they  have  cast  into  the  cellar.  They 
have  robbed  him  of  his  money  and  me  of 
my  trinkets.  They  have  thrust  me  from 
the  house,  after  threatening  to  take  my 
life!" 

"Scandalous!"  said  Ned.  "Who  are 
they?" 

"  They  claim  to  be  soldiers  of  the  Union 
army.  Their  leader  wears  a  blue  uni- 
form, but  the  others  are  more  like  tramps. 
The  man  in  uniform  claims  to  have 
authority  from  high  officials  for  his  ac- 
tions. He  says  they  are  raising  funds  in 
every  possible  way." 

"  Do  they  look  like  soldiers?" 

"No,  sir;  and  they  certainly  do  not  be- 
have like  any  soldiers  I  have  before  seen. 
Men  in  both  blue  and  gray  have  been  to 
our  house  and  have  respectfully  asked 
for  food  and  lodging,  which  has  always 
been  gladly  given." 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  they  are  do- 
ing by  this  time?"  asked  Ned. 

"  They  have  been  eating  and  drinking, 
and  I  think  they  are  now  carousing  over 
some  old  whisky  which  they  discovered. 
Please,  sir,  rescue  my  poor  father,  who  is 
an  invalid  at  the  best  of  times." 

Ned  was  much  moved  at  the  earnest  re- 
quest of  this  helpless  girl. 

He  had  never  possessed  a  sister  nor  a 
"best  girl,"  but  he  was  none  the  less 
sympathetic,  and  with  true  manly  in- 
stinct was  ready  at  once  to  help  a  weaker 
fellow-mortal,  whether  man  or  woman. 

"You  had  better,  perhaps,  remain  in 
your  hiding-place,"  said  Ned  to  the  girl. 
"We  will  come  to  you  soon. 

"Hurry,  boys;  we  will  soon  fire  these 
rascals  out  of  here,  or  know  the  reason 
why!     Come! 

"Halt!"  he  cried,  as  they  reached  the 
outside  of  the  house. 

"  Halt,  yerself !"  mocked  a  voice  on  the 
nside. 

The  men  were  evidently  getting  excited 
and  reckless  with  the  liquor  they  had 
consumed. 

"Come  out  of  that!"  called  Ned, 
sternly. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind;  don't  have  to!" 
was  the  insolent  reply. 

"  I  warn  you  to  come  out  of  that  house 
and  to  leave  everything  as  you  found  it," 
Ned  shouted  through  the  open  door. 
"Also  release  the  man  you  have  thrown 
into  the  cellar." 

"Go  (hie)  er  thunder!"  stuttered  one 
fellow,  who  was  evidently  getting  drunk. 

"  Is  that  the  way  to  address  an  officer 
of  the  United  States  army?"  asked  the 
first  speaker. 


"Boys,"  said  Ned,  quietly,  "gointtere, 
half  a  dozen  of  you,  and  run  those  felJows 
out." 

The  men  were  only  too  eager  to  execute 
this  order. 

They  rushed  into  the  room  where  the 
scoundrels  were  lying  on  the  floor  or  lol- 
ling upon  the  chairs,  and  grabbed  them 
in  short  order. 

They  brought  them  out  to  the  Lieuten- 
ant, who  waited  for  them  upon  the  ver- 
anda. 

He  was  leaning  slightly  upon  his 
sword. 

But  he  almost  fell  when  he  saw  the  fast 
of  the  pillagers  captured  by  his  men. 

It  was  the  very  man  he  wanted  ! 

The  fellow  who  had  done  him  so  mi.  ay 
wrongs. 

He  was  less  affected  by  whisky  than 
the  other  three. 

Ned  was  startled,  but  he  quickly  recoV' 
ered  his  soldierly  bearing. 

"You  scoundrel!"  he  said,  very  sternly, 
"you  are  common  thieves  and  robbers, 
and  worse.  With  no  excuse  or  authority 
you  desecrate  a  home,  maltreat  an  old 
and  sick  man,  and  behave  like  brutes  to 
his  daughter.  Soldiers?  Bah!  Dirty, 
low,  thieving  impostors.  Sergeant,  strip 
those  three  fellows1  backs  and  give  them 
ten  lashes  apiece  with  a  stout  switch. 
Then  let  them  go,  without  coats  or  shirts, 
to  show  folks  what  kind  of  men  they  are. 
As  for  that  other  villain,  who  dares  to 
wear  the  Federal  uniform,  we  will  take 
him  along.  I  have  an  old  score  to  settle 
with  him!" 

The  three  robbers  squirmed  and  pleaded 
for  mercy  as  the  switch  was  vigorously 
plied  upon  their  backs. 

When  the  thrashing  was  over,  however, 
they  sneaked  away. 

"Bind  that  fellow's  hands  behind 
him,"  said  Ned,  pointing  to  the  would-be 
leader  of  the  plundering  gang.  "Don't 
give  him  half  a  chance  to  escape.  Now, 
wait  here  until  I  go  to  the  cellar." 

Ned  found  the  girl's  father  and  released 
him,  and  then  went  to  find  the  young 
lady. 

She  was  profuse  in  her  thanks,  as  was 
the  old  man. 

She  hoped  they  would  become  better 
acquainted  in  quieter  and  happier  times, 
and  Ned  said  he  realty  hoped  so  too. 

But  Ned  had  no  time  then  for  social 
pleasures,  so  with  his  prisoner  he  quickly 
returned  to  the  little  camp  where  Gen- 
eral Dixon  anxiously  awaited  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    CHICKEN    SCRAPE. 

When  Ned  reported  all  that  had  trans- 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


21 


pired  to  General  Dixon,  that  officer  was 
for  making  short  work  of  the  prisoner. 

He  suggested  hanging  the  rascal  to  the 
nearest  tree,  there  and  then. 

"But,  no,"  said  Ned.  "I  have  no 
doubt  as  to  his  guilt  in  many  ways.  Of 
course  I  have  just  caught  him  in  the  act 
of  terrifying  a  young  lady  and  robbing 
her  father;  beside  which  he  assaulted  me 
and  would  have  taken  my  life  on  that 
night  long  ago,  had  not  Chuck  frightened 
him  off.  Still,  General,  these  things 
should  not  be  punished  with  death." 

"My  dear  fellow,  you  know  of  other 
things  he  is  guilty  of,  for  which  death  is 
too  good  a  punishment!" 

"Yes,  sir,  in  my  mind  and  in  your  mind 
we  have  no  doubt  this  man  murdered  my 
poor  father.  But  can  we  prove  it,  and 
should  we  hang  or  shoot  the  wretch  until 
we  can?" 

"  Heavens  and  earth,  Ned,  do  you  want 
to  set  him  free?" 

"No,  I  do  not!  I  want  to  see  him  pun- 
ished. But  if  he  is  to  die  I  want  him  to 
die  by  a  just  sentence,  and  not  from  my 
personal  spite,  sir.  That  would  be  little 
short  of  murder  in  me." 

"What  would  you  do,  then?" 

"I  would  have  him  taken  to  headquar- 
ters, and  tried  before  a  court-martial  of 
unprejudiced  officers." 

"  On  what  charge?" 

"Of  being  a  spy.  You  know  he  en- 
listed into  our  regiment  not  long  ago. 
Or,  if  that  cannot  be  proven,  he  can  at 
least  be  charged  with  being  a  deserter,  for 
he  deserted  the  next  day,  or  before." 

"  Supposing  you  cannot  sustain  either 
charge?"  « 

"Then  I  will  telegraph  to  Muggletown 
to  the  Sheriff  of  our  county,  to  come 
down  here  and  arrest  him  on  the  charge 
of  shooting  my  old  schoolmate,  Jemmy 
Sheldon,  two  or  three  years  ago.  Oh,  I 
have  lots  of  old  scores  to  fall  back  upon; 
and  Lawyer  Turrell,  of  our  town,  would 
only  be  too  willing  to  assist  me  in  bring- 
ing the  fellow  to  his  just  deserts." 

While  the  General  and  our  friend  were 
talking  over  the  matter  that  then  most 
interested  them,  they  heard  the  sound 
of  angry  voices  approaching  them  quite 
rapidly. 

"You're  a  confounded,  thieving  nig- 
ger!" / 

"Dat's  not  so,  sah!" 

"You're  an  old  black  vagabond!" 

'  Doan  you  call  a  colored  gen'inan  no 
tiack  vagabone,  sah!  I'se  no  thieving 
r'ggah,  sah!" 

"You're  a  lying  old  chicken-thief!" 
I'se  no  sech  a  thing,   boss,   an'    I'll 
leave  it  to  de  General  or  Mars'  Ned." 

"  I'll  leave  it  to  the  General;  and  as  to 
Master  Ned,  I'll  raise  Ned  for  you." 


The  General  and  "Ned  both  smiled 
loudly  at  each  other  as  they  overheard 
these  fragments  of  rather  warm  conversa- 
tion. 

"My  cook  seems  to  have  got  into 
trouble,"  said  the  senior  officer. 

"Well,  sir,  you  can  trust  to  Chuck  to 
wiggle  himself  out  of  a  scrape  He  is  one 
of  the  luckiest  Qf  darkies.  Here  they 
come." 

"Yes,"  said  the  General,  "and  I'll 
wager  they'll  both  appeal  to  me.  What 
shall  I  do!" 

"Give  them  both  a  hearing,  sir." 

"But  my  dear  Ned,  such  a  case  would 
tax  the  wisdom  of  a  Solomon.  As  a  man, 
I  am  decidedly  in  favor  of  standing  by  a 
good  cook  and  spring  chickens  for  break- 
fast. As  an  officer  I  shall,  I  fear,  be  com- 
pelled to  punish  the  cook  and  give  up 
the  chickens." 

"Compromise,  General,  compromise," 
said  Ned,  who,  after  a  profusion  of  hard 
tack  and  salt  pork,  was  not  quite  indiff- 
erent to  the  delicate  food.  ♦ 

"How  now?  What's  all  this?"  asked 
the  General,  with  sternness,  as  Chuck 
and  an  old  Tennessee  farmer  came  tumb- 
ling up  together. 

They  were  both  so  busy  calling  each 
other  pet  names  that  they  neither  of 
them  noticed  their  close  proximity  to  the 
officers  until  the  General  called  to  them. 

They  looked  up  sheepishly,  and  then 
both  commenced  together. 

"General,"  yelled  the  old  man,  "this 
black  rogue " 

"Mars'  Ned,  now  is  I  a  thieving  nig- 
gah, sah?    Is  I " 

"Silence!"  roared  General  Dixon. 
"What  is  all  this  noise  and  trouble 
about?  One  at  a  time,  now.  You,  sir, 
as  you  are  a  stranger,  may  speak  first." 

"General,  this  colored  fellow,  whom  1 
suspect  is  your  servant,  has  been  robbing 
my  poultry-yard.  I  caught  him  in  the 
act  with  four  chickens  in  his  possession, 
I  made  him  drop  a  pair  of  them,  but  be 
still  has  two — one  in  '  each  of  his  coat 
pockets." 

As  if  to  prove  the  old  man's  assertion, 
there  was  heard  just  then  a  mysterious 
cackling. 

The  noise  emanated  from  Chuck's 
pocket,  and  all  eyes  being  turned  just 
then  in  that  direction,  Chuck  certainly 
became  uneasy  and  lost  his  usual  equa- 
nimity. 

As  one  little  hen's  head  peeked  over 
the  top  of  one  of  Chuck's  capacious 
pockets,  the  two  officers  could  scarce  re- 
press a  smile. 

General  Dixon  tried  to  look  angry  and 
asked: 

"  You  hear  these  accusations,  Chuck; 
what  have  you  to  say  in  reply?" 


22 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


Chuck  was  himself  again. 

"Idoan  deny,  Mars1  General  Dixon, 
sah,  dat  de  ole  man's  chickens  be  in  dis 
yer'niggah's  possession,  sah.  But  when 
er  ole  dried  up  Souverner  liked  at  ar  call 
er  honest  colored  man  er  t'ievin'  niggah, 
sah,  he  done  tell  er  lie,  Mars'  General!" 

"Then  von  acknowledge  that  you  stole 
the  birds, "Chuck?" 

"No,  sah;  I  'knowledge  noffin' ob  de 
kind,  sah.  Here  is  de  birds,  sut'ny,  but 
dis  yer  niggah  didn't  stole  Viu." 

"Did  you  buy  them,  then?" 

"No,  sah,  I  did  not." 

"What  then?" 

••  Well,  Miirs'  General  Dixon,  sah,  'twas 
this  way:  I  done  take  er  walk  off  yon- 
(i  '!i,  sah.  an'  1  cume  by  er  chicken-coop. 
F.is  t'iug  I  know,  sah,  I  hear  my  name 
e  illen,  sah,  dis  yer  way  '  Chuck,  Chuck,( 
Chock!'  Coarse,  sah,  I  go  ter  rind  who' 
call  me.  I  looks  all  eround  at>'  see  no- 
body.  Den  1  hear  it  ag'in — 'Chuck, 
Ohriek,  Cliuck,  Chuck,  Chuck!'  Dis  yer 
time  I  knows  'twas  inside  de  chicken- 
coop,  so  I  walks  right  in.  I  say.  '"What 
want  of  Chuck?'  an'  I  gets  no  answer, 
sah.  So  I  come  right  out,  an'  fus1  t'ing 
I  know  I  find  my  arms  an'  my  pockets 
tilled  wid  chickens.  Den  dis  yer  ole 
mommy-man  he  say  I  take  his  chickens. 
which  ain't  so.  Dey  come  to  me  ob  deir 
own  accord,  sah,  an'  choose  ter  stay  wif 
me.  I  say  ter  deni,  'Whose  chickens 
are  you,  den?'  an'  dey  say,  'Chuck, 
Chuck,  Chuck!'  whereby  dey  'knowledge 
dey  done  b'long  di§  yer  niggah!" 

The  General  and  Ned  laughed  right 
out  at  this  ingenuous  defense  of  Chuck's. 

"If  you  will  allow  me,  General,  I  will 
try  and  manage  this  difference  of  opin- 
ion," said  our  hero. 

"  By  all  means,  Lieutenant." 

"Now,  my  man,"  said  Ned,  "I  sup- 
pose you  don't  want  to  press  this  case, 
which  you  haven't  yet  proven.  Will  you 
sell  these  birds?" 

"  Yes,  I'll  sell  .them — at  my  price." 

"  Name  your  price." 

"Six  dollars  each." 

"Nonsense!" 

"I  mean  it." 

"You  mean  six  dollars  to  us  and  sixty 
cents  to  Rebels.     Is  that  it?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  the  man,  sullenly. 

"That  will  do,"  interrupted  General 
Dixon.  "I  will  settle  this.  My  good 
man,  you  have  euchered  yourself.  As 
senior  officer  here  of  the  United  States 
army,  I  say  that  your  chickens  will  be 
forfeited  as  food  for  the  army.  We  don't 
show  much  favor  to  people  like  you,  so 
yon  will  act  wisely  by  making  tracks.  I 
will  give  you  just  five  minutes  to  get;  out 
of  sight.     Chuck,  you  can  go." 

To  tell  the  truth,  General  Dixon  break- 


fasted heartily  on  the  Rebel's  chicken? 
the  next  morning,  and  Ned,  who  was  his 
guest,  joined  in  the  feast. 

His  next  breakfast  Ned  took  at  his  old 
quarters,  at  the  officers'  mess  of  the  Ken- 
tucky Sirkmishers,  where  his  old  chief, 
Colonel  Barker,  presided. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    COURT-MARTIAL. 

About  the  time  that  Ned  and  his  friend 
the  General  reached  the  army,  every- 
thing was  pretty  quiet. 

There  had  been  no  fighting  for  some 
weeks,  and  none  was  expected. 

The  General  in  command  of  the  army 
was  away  at  Washington,  whither  he 
had  gone  to  consult  with  the  chiefs  of  the 
War  Department  and  the  President. 

In  histibsence  a  General  of  Volunteers 
was  in  charge,  but  on  General  Dixon's 
arrival  he  resigned  the  nominal  command 
in  favor  of  that  officer. 

This  was  because  General  Dixon,  being 
in  the  regular  army,  outranked  the  Gen- 
eral of  Volunteers. 

The  man  Watson  (for  such  we  will  call 
him)  was  turned  over  to  the  proper 
authorities  and  placed  in  the  field  prison. 

General  Dixon  was  himself  anxious  to 
see  Watson  tried,  couvicted  and  punished, 
but  did  not  feel  like  trying  the  case  him- 
self. 

He  knew  that  he  was  biased:  and, 
beside,  he  wished  to  appear,  if  necessary, 
as  a  witness,  and  perhaps  give  some  strong 
and  damning  evidence. 

General  Dixon  therefore  directed  Col- 
onel Barker  of  the  Kentucky  Skirmisher.-. 
to  preside  over  a  court-martial. 

At  ten  o'clock,  therefore,  on  the  day 
following  Ned's  arrival  in  camp  the  pris- 
oner was  brought  before  the  court-mar- 
tial. 

This  court  consisted  of  Colonel  Barker, 
who  presided,  assisted  by  two  or  three  of 
his  subordinate  officers. 

There  were  also  present  the  Judge-Aci- 
vocate  of  the  district  and  a  stenographer, 
and  also  a  large  number  of  soldiers  who! 
might  be  called  upon  to  give  evidence. 

"What  offense  is  this  man  charged 
with?"  asked  the  Court. 

"With  enlisting  into  the  regiment  of 
Kentucky  Skirmishers  as  a  spy,"  replied 
the  Judge- Advocate. 

"Can  the  case  be  proven?" 

"It  can.  We  charge  that  this  fellow, 
Watson,  alias  Smith,  alias  Trinkner,  was 
and  is  a  spy  in  the  service  of  the  Confed- 
erates. As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  taken 
in  the  act,  and  had  he  not  escaped  when 
he  did,  would   have  been  shot  without  a 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


L'3 


hearing.      He     escaped,     however,     and 
thereby  doubly  proved  his  guilt." 

"So  far," said  the  Court,  ''the  prisoner 
has  only  been  proven  guilty  of  desertion, 
which  1  believe  lie  does  not  deny.'1 

"We  are  fully  prepared  to  prove  the 
other  charge.  Lieutenant  Trinkner,  step 
forward,  please.'' 

Ned  stepped  up  and  took  the  oath. 

"Now,  Lieutenant,  will  you  please  tell 
the  Court  all  that  you  know  of  this  man?'' 

Ned  commenced,  and  told  how  he  had 
first  seen  him  when,  a  lad  at  home,  he  was 
playing  at  war  on  the  hillside.  He  also 
told  of  the  counterfeit  money  transaction 
between  Watson  and  Charley  Stiles,  and 
then  proceeded,  at  some  length,  to  give 
an  account  of  his  own  adventure  on  the 
lonely  road,  when  he  had  acted  as  a  spe- 
cial messenger  forGeneral  Dixon.  Every- 
body listened  attentively  as  Ned  with 
much  modesty  told  his  story. 

But  they  were  still  more  interested  as 
our  hero  went  on  to  speak  of  more  recent 
events. 

He  gave  a  thrilling  account  of  the  sur- 
prise which  his  men  experienced  in  meet- 
ing the  Rebel  cavalry  detachment,  and 
his  own  hand-to-hand  encounter  with  his 
former  friend,  Charley  Stiles. 

"Before  we  go  further,'1  said  Ned,  "I 
would  respectfully  ask  the  Court  to  order 
the  prisoner  to  write  without  any  sort  of 
hesitation  his  name — or  his  assumed 
name5— Watson." 

"The  prisoner  will  do  that,"  said  the 
Court.  "Give  him  pen  and  ink  and  a 
sheet  of  paper.  Prisoner,  write,  and 
write  quickly." 

"  Also,"  said  Ned,  "will  the  Court  have 
him  write  'Captain  Stiles1?" 

"Ilcl*.     Prisoner,  do  so." 

"And  now,"  continued  Ned,  "I  will 
read  a  letter  which  I  found  in  the  saddle- 
holster  of  Captain  StilesV  horse,  which  1 
captured  and  afterward  rode.  This  is 
the  brief  communication: 

Captain  Stiles: — Take  your  men  to 
the  nine  acre  lot  north  of  the  Salem 
woods,  one  mile  east  of  the  Rugby  Creek, 
to-morrow  at  daybreak.  You  will  easily 
capture  a  Union  officer  and  a  squad  of 
ten  men.  Watson. 

"Will  the  Court  read  that  missive,  and 
compare  the  writing  with  what  the  pris- 
oner has  just  written?" 

Ned  handed  the  dirty  scrap  of  paper  to 
Colonel  Barker,  who  examined  it  closely 
and  compared  it  with  the  writing  he 
already  held. 

Then  he  passed  it  to  those  officers  who 
sat  with  him  as  court-martial. 

"Proceed,"  he  said;  "is  there  anything 
else?" 


"  If  the  Court  please,"  said  the  man  of 
law,  "  we  will  examine  one  other  witness. 
General  Dixon,  this  way,  sir. 

"Now,  General,''  he  went  on,  after  ad- 
ministering the  usual  oath.  •    ■ 

"My  evidence  will  be  brief,"  said  the 
General.  "I  have  simply  to  say  that 
some  days  ago  the  prisoner  presented 
himself  to  me  with  a  request  for  a  pass. 
For  several  reasons  my  suspicions  were 
aroused,  so  I  put  the  man  off  and  told  him 
tosee  me  again.  For  reasons  best  known 
to  the  prisoner  he  never  came  again  fur 
the  pass." 

"Thank  you.  General;  now  we  will 
call  upon  a  reliable  colored  witness.  We 
do  not  need  him,  but  his  evidence  will 
corroborate  Lieutenant  Trinkner's  some- 
what." 

By  dint  of  much  persuasion  Chuck  was 
made  to  take  the  oath. 

But  as  he  did  so  he  acted  strangely, 
and  his  eyes  seemed  riveted  on  the  pris- 
oner. Ned  saw  that  Watson  was  eying 
Chuck  with  a  fixed  glance,  his  cold  eyes 
glittering  like  steel. 

And  Chuck  never  uttered  a  word. 

They  coaxed,  persuaded,  threatened 
and  teased;  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

Chuck  was  dumb.  He  was  under  a 
spell.  But  not  many  beside  Ned  dreamed 
that  the  prisoner  had  worked  the  spell. 

"That  is  all,"  said  the  Judge-Advo- 
cate. 

Silence  fell  over  the  court  as  the  Col- 
onel again  examined  the  papers  in  his 
hand. 

You  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop. 

"Has  the  prisoner  anything  to  say? 
Is  there  any  reason  why  the  Court  should 
not  pass  sentence?" 

And  there  was  a  yet  deeper  silence  as 
the  prisoner,  taking  his  eyes  off  Chuck 
for  the  first  time,  said:  "  May  it  please 
the  Court " 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

WATSON'S     STORY. 

Every  eye  was  turned  upon  the  pris- 
oner. Every  man  in  the  large  tent  looked 
upon  Watson  as  practically  condemned 
already. 

They  looked  upon  him,  not  with  the 
common  interest  they  would  have  dis- 
played toward  a  man  liable  to  be  sen- 
tenced to  a  term  of  years  in  a  military 
prison,  but  as  a  man  whose  days  were 
numbered.  A  man  who  was  soon  to  suffer 
the  extreme  penalty  of  the  law. 

For,  mind  you,  a  military  sentence  of 
death  gave  no  time  nor  opportunity  to 
the  unfortunate  culprit  for  thoughtful 
reflection  and  preparation. 

It  meant  death,  and  sr»eedy  death. 


24 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOT  AIDE. 


It  meant  hanging,  perhaps,  or  shoot- 
ing, anyhow,  at  sunrise  the  next  niOrn- 
in0'. 

So  every  eye  was  focused  upon  Watson, 
and  every  ear  was  bent  to  catch  the 
words  he  was  about  to  speak  in  his  own 
defence. 

The  man  was  a  good  talker,  as  every- 
one was  forced  to  admit  before  very  long. 

"May  it  please  the  Court,"  he  said, 
44  by  your  permission  I  should  like  very 
briefly  to  relate  the  story  of  a  life.  Some 
forty-eight  years  ago,  in  the  North-east- 
ern part  of  old  Kentucky,  there  was  born 
a  baby-boy.  Tradition  has  it  that  he 
was  a  fine  babe,  and  his  mother  loved 
him  dearly. 

"  So  did  his  father. 

"  His  father  lo,ved  him  so  well  and  was 
so  proud  of  him  that  in  course  of  time  he 
made  him  his  heir,  and  when  that  father 
died,  he  left  his  boy  Dick  the  old  home- 
stead and  other  valuable  property. 

"Dick  was  then  a  lad  of  twenty,  and, 
so  the  neighbors  said,  a  fine  lad. 

Having  lost  the  home  which  his  father 
made  for  him  (his  mother  was  long  since 
dead),  Dick  took  the  first  steps  to  make 
a  home  of  his  own. 

"  He  met,  loved,  and  wooed  a  fair  Ken- 
tucky girl,  and  three  years  later  the 
couple  were  married. 

"  Dick's  wife  'was  by  no  means  penni- 
less. 

"  She  joined  to  Dick's  fortune  a  snug 
little  income  of  her  own. 

"They  lived  happily  together  in  the 
little  Kentucky  town  where  they  made 
their  home,  and  a  year  after  the  wed- 
ding-day a  baby-girl  came  to  gladden 
their  hearts. 

"But  the  baby  died,  and  the  young 
couple  counted  their  first  angel  in  heaven. 

"Then  several  years  passed  quietly, 
when  the  smoothness  of  their  lives  was 
broken  by  the  advent  of  a  son. 

"  If  the  mother  loved  that  little  child 
the  father  worshiped  it. 

"Mother  and  father  vied  with  each  other 
in  trying  to  make  his  young  life  a  happy 
one. 

"They  thought  they  succeeded,  and  as 
a  consequence  all  three  were  perfectly 
happy. 

"  But  perfect  happiness  is  ever  liable 
to  be  rudely  destroyed. 

"  Reverses  came  to  the  young  father, 
and  before  he  knew  it,  he  had  lost  every 
penny  of  his  fortune. 

"But  he  was  a  proud  man.  He  would 
not  touch  his  wife's  property. 

"'No,'  he  said,  frequently;  'keep  it 
wife,  for  yourself.  You  will  then  always 
have  something,  and  when  our  little  Ned 
grows  up  you  will  be  able  to  do  some- 
thing; for  him.' 


"When  little  Ned  was  scarce  three 
years  old,  the  memorable  year  of  forty- 
nine  arrived,  and  the  gold  fever  broke 
out. 

"Ned's  father  thought  he  might  re- 
trieve his  fallen  fortunes  in  a  short  space 
of  time. 

"So,  bidding  wife  and  child  a  tender 
farewell,  lie  gathered  what  was  left  of  hife 
money,  and  started  across  the  plains  to 
California. 

"It  was  a  sad  parting,  gentlemen," said 
the  prisoner,  with  a  quiver  in  his  voice. 
"Wife  and  husband  bade  each  other  a 
long  good-by;  they  never  saw  each  other 
more,  and  perchance  never  will.  Long 
before  little  Ned's  father  returned,  the 
wife  had  gone  to  join  her  baby-girl  up 
yonder." 

Here  the  pleading  prisoner  paused, 
quite  overcome.  As  the  finger  of  his 
right  hand  pointed  upward  he  wiped  a 
tear  from  his  eye  with  the  back  of  his 
other  brown  hand. 

There  were  few  dry  eyea  in  that  court. 

At  last  Colonel  Barker  motioned  him 
to  proceed. 

"  When  that  young  man  left  his  home, 
gentlemen,  he  left  all  that  was  good  and 
pure  and  holy  for  him.  He  left  behind 
him  all  the  gentle  and  restraining  influ- 
ences of  his  youth  and  early  manhood. 

"When  he  got  across  the  Mississippi 
River  he  took  his  first  downward  step. 

"  He  gambled,  and  won. 

"He  gambled  again,  and  lost. 

"  Then  he  drank. 

"Then  he  sunk  to  all  the  depths  of 
degradation  known  to  humanity. 

"In  one  of  his  drunken  spells  he  fell 
among  thieves,  who  robbed  him  and 
drugged  him,  and  after  half  killing  him 
left  hiin  for  dead. 

"The  once  happy  Dick  thought  the 
world  was  against  him,  so  he  soured  on 
the  world. 

"He  seemed  possessed  of  a  devil. 

"He  forgot  all  about  home,  and  wife, 
and  child. 

"  His  heart  was  a  stone. 

"Earth  was  hell  to  him,  and  he  pro^ 
ceeded,  as  quickly  as  he  could,  to  make 
it  a  hell  for  all  around  him. 

"  But  the  end  of  the  spell  had  to  come. 

"  It  was  after  many  years. 

"But  it  came. 

"Then,  repentant  and  sorrowful,  he 
bent  his  steps  to  the  Kentucky  home, 
only  to  find  it  broken  up. 

"The  wife  of  his  youth  was  dead. 

"  His  boy  did  not  remember  or  recog- 
nize him. 

"  The  unhappy  father  cursed  his  fate, 
and  swore  at  his  ill-fortune. 

"All  his  good  resolutions  were  forgot- 
ten. 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


25 


"  He  went  back  to  all  his  evil  practices 
and  took  up  again  his  life  of  sin. 

"He  even  attacked  his  own  boy,  and 
right  near  his  old  home  tried  to  palm  off 
some  the  queer.  In  fact  he  did  so  in 
trade  for  a  horse. 

"  Many  other  wicknesses  and  crimes  did 
did  this  man  commit,  and  narrowly  es- 
caped capture,  imprisonment  and  death. 

"  But  once  more,  with  a  stronger  and 
deeper  yearning  than  ever,  returned  the 
love  for  his  boy— the  boy  of  himself  and 
his  early  love. 

"  He  felt  that  he  must  find  his  boy  and 
be  reconciled  to  him. 

"  He  resorted  to  all  sorts  of  expedients 
to  reach  and  watch  that  boy  of  his,  who 
had  now  become  an  officer  in  the  Union 
army. 

"He  enlisted  and  deserted — but  before 
God,  gentlemen,  not  as  a  spy! 

"  He  did  ask  officers  for  passes  to  carry 
him  through  the  lines — but  never  as  a 
spy! 

"  He  used  false  names — but  not  to  play 
traitor! 

"I  stand  before  this  Court,  the  man  of 
whom  I  have  myself  been  speaking — 
Dick — unfortunate,  miserable,  and  un- 
happy, but  more  sinned  against  than 
sinning.     But  I  am  no  traitor;  no  spy! 

"I  am  Richard  Trinkner!  It  is  my 
blood  which  flows  through  the  veins  of 
yonder  gallant  young  warrior!  My  heart 
is  true  to  the  North  and  the  old  flag! 

"I  own  I  am  weak;  that  the  demon 
drink  is  often  my  master — but  that  is  the 
worst;  that  is  the  worst!" 

For  a  second  there  was  silence. 

The  scene  was  intensely  dramatic  as 
the  prisoner  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  ex- 
tending his  hands  toward  Lieutenant 
Trinkner,  burst  into  a  fit  of  passionate 
weeping. 

"  Oh,  Ned,  my  son!  My  own  boy,  take 
your  wretched  father's  outstretched 
hand  and  say  a  word  for  him!  Oh,  my 
God!  my  God!" 

And  now  all  eyes  turned  upon  our  hero. 

But  Ned  stood  motionless  and  pale  as 
a  statue. 

He  was  terribly  moved,  and  the  strain 
upon  his  nerves  was  fearful. 

It  was  a  painful  moment  for  the  entire 
assembly. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  SPY  SENTENCED   TO  DEATH. 

Ned  was  dumfounded. 

He  knew  not  what  to  think. 

The  words — eloquent  words — of  the 
prisoner  had  created  a  marked  impression 
upon  him,  as  they  had,  indeed,  upon  all 
who  heard  them  uttered. 


It  seemed  hard  to  think  that  the  touch- 
ing story  related   by  the  prisoner  could 
be  false. 
And  yet  Ned  knew  it  to  be  so. 
So  did  General  Dixon. 
The  rest   of  the  Court,  including  the 
members  of  the  court-martial,  began  to 
think  there  was  some  terrible  mistake. 

But  although  deeply  moved  and  almost 
nonplussed,  Ned  felt  no  tenderness  to- 
ward the  man  who  said  he  was  his  father. 
Even  as  the  prisoner  knelt  before  him 
with  extended  arms,  Ned  felt  no  inclina- 
tion to  take  the  outstretched  hands  in  v 
his  own. 

The  sobs  of  the  wretched  man  pained 
him,  but  they  touched  no  responsive 
chord' in  Ned's  heart. 

Yet,  for  the  moment,  our  hero  felt  that 
he  might  be  running  a  risk  of  doing  some 
injustice. 
Colonel  Barker  broke  the  silence. 
"Lieutenant  Trinkner,"  he  said,  "it 
seems  as  if  the  statement  we  have  heard 
should  call  for  some  reply  from  you.  It 
is  strange  if  there  is  not  some  way  for  you 
to  surely  ascertain  if  this  man's  story  is 
true.  What  have  you  to  say,  Lieuten- 
ant?" 

"Sir,"  said  Ned,  hoarsely,  averting  his 
eyes  from  the  kneeling  prisoner,  "that 
this  man  is  not  my  father  I  am  certain. 
But  if  the  Court  pleases,  I  would  like  to 
have  this  case  adjourned  until  to-mor- 
row. At  all  events,  I  would  ask  to  have 
sentence  deferred." 

"  It  is  unnecessary,"  said  General  Dixon, 
who  had  by  this  time  gotten  over  the 
temporary  excitement  caused  by  the 
prisoner's  impassioned  speech  of  defense. 
"If  the  Court  will  permit,  I  will  take  the 
stand  again." 

Briefly,  concisely  but  with  much  clear- 
ness, the  General  told  the  story  of  his  sick 
visitor  on  the  plains  in  '49.  He  related, 
as  we  have  already  heard  him  tell  it  to 
Ned,  the  particulars  of  that  night  and 
morning,  and  of  the  subsequent  finding 
of  the  body  of  the  murdered  Richard 
Trinkner. 

Although  a  man  of  few  words,  the 
intense  earnestness  of  General  Dixon  told 
as  much  upon  his  audience  as  the  speech 
of  the  prisoner  had  previously  done.  On 
one  man,  at  least,  they  had  a  fearful 
effect.  The  man  Watson,  almost  uncon- 
sciously, slowly,  inch  by  inch,  arose  from 
his  kneeling  position.  He  straightened 
right  up,  and,  before  he  knew  it,  was 
bending  forward,  drinking  in  every  sylla- 
ble uttered  by  the  witness. 

His  eyes  protruded  from  their  sockets 
and  his  jaw  dropped  listlessly.     His  fin- 
gers were  clutched  tightly,  starting  the 
blood  from  the  palms  of  his  hands.     His 
I  whole  appearance  was  haggard  in  the  ex- 


26 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE., 


treme,  the  expression  on  his  face  being 
the  hopeless  gaze  of  a  man  who  saw  fast 
approaching  the  day  of  doom. 

■•There,"  said  the  General,  as  he 
handed  Colonel  Barker  an  old  stocking 
with  a  name  marked  on  it  in  faded  let- 
ters, "there,  sir,  in  the  sock  which  I  took 
from  off  the  murdered  man,  is  the  proof 
of  Richard  Trinkner's  death.  And,  there, 
gentleman,  stands  not  only  Richard 
Trinkner's  impersonator,  but  Richard 
T r i  n kn e r's  murderer!"1 

With  a  wild  look  upon  his  distorted 
features,  the  prisoner  gasped,  with  the 
awt'utness of  despair: 

•■  It  is  a  lie.  a  damnable  lie!" 

"Liar  yourself!"  said  a  voice,  familiar 
at  least  to  Ned. 

"Let  me  in,  sergeant;  let  me  in,  sir,  I 
say!    I  demand  to  be  admitted!" 

All  these  words  were  uttered  by  the 
same  person,  who  was  struggling  with  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  at  the  door  for  ad- 
mission. 

"Order!"  cried  the  Clerk. 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  Colonel  Barker. 

"An  old  man,  sir;  a  civilian;  says  he 
must  be  admitted."' 

"Of  course,  of  course!"  shouted  the 
man,  who  was  trying  to  push  his  way 
past  the  sergeant.  "I  have  important 
evidence.     I  demand  to  be  sworn!" 

"Admit  him,  sergeant,"  said  the  Col- 
onel. 

"Thank  you,  your  honor.  How  do, 
Ned?"  said  "the  old  man  as  he  entered, 
followed  by  a  much  younger  man,  who 
was  a  stranger  to  Ned. 

It  was  Squire  Turrell  of  Muggletown! 

"  May  it  please  the  Court,"  he  went  on, 
'it  seems  to  me   I   have  arrived  in  the 
nick  of  time.     Swear  me,  your  honor." 

The  old  lawyer  was  not  used  to  practic- 
ing before  a  court  martial,  and  addressed 
the  president,  Colonel  Barker,  as  if  he 
were  a  civil  magistrate. 

The  customary  oath  was  administered. 

"Your  honor,"  said  Mr.  Turrell,  "I 
was  in  the  entrance  and  heard  every 
word  of  the  prisoner's  hypocritical  story. 
It  is  not  his  first  piece  of  hypocrisy  by 
any  means. 

'Let  me  relate,  in  a  few  words,  a 
story. 

"  In  Cairo,  Illinois,  some  forty-five 
years  ago,  there  was  born  a  boy.  He  was 
a  bad  one  from  the  start,  and  when  only 
fifteen  years  of  age,  he  was  given  the 
option  of  leaving  the  town  or  receiving,  a 
coat  of  tar  and  feathers.  He  shipped  as 
a  deck-hand  on  an  Ohio  River  packet. 
He  could  not  behave  himself  there,  a?nd 
the  Captain  put  him  ashore  one  night, 
not  far  from  Muggletown,  Kentucky. 
There  Richard  Trinkner,  only  a  year  or 
two  older  than  himself,  befriended  him, 


and  tried  to  make  a  man  of  him.  But  he 
failed,  and  for  all  his  kindness  the  Cairo 
boy  rewarded  him  by  robbing  him,  at 
the  end  of  two  years,  of  his  money.  It  is 
needless  to  say  the  robber  jumped  the 
town.  The  boy  went  West  to  St.  Louis, 
and  from  petty  robbery  went  to  greater 
wickedness.  Finally  Ids  only  safety  lay 
in  the  plains,  away  from  police  and  law. 
For  ten  years  he  roamed  the  plains,  and 
during  the  excitement  of  '49  Ue  robbed 
and  murdered  to  his  heart's  content. 

•■  At  the  close  of  '49  he  was  in  Memphis, 
Tennessee,  where  he  was  arrested  foi 
horse- stealing.  From  his  person  the  Chief 
of  Police  took  many  trinkets,  and  among 
them  were  these  two  articles.  They  are 
a  ring  and  watch.  Both  were  the  prop- 
erty of  my  old  and  murdered  friend,  Dick 
Trinkner.  This  rascal's  name  was  Jo 
Smith,  alias  Hank  Watson,  alias  half  a 
dozen  other  fictitious  names.  That  is  all, 
your  honor.  This  man  I  have  brought 
with  me  would  like  to  be  sworn." 

The  stranger  took  the  stand. 

"Your  name?"  asked  the  Court. 

"James  Mildmay." 

"  Occupation?" 

"  Court  stenograper." 

"  Residence?" 

"Chicago." 

"Let  us  bear  what  you  have  to  say." 

"Only  this,  sir.  In  '491  was  clerk  toth« 
Chief  of  Police  at  Memphis,  Tennessee. 
One  day  a  tall,  wiry,  evil-looking  man 
was  arrested  for  horse-stealing.  He  was' 
brought  to  the  Chiefs  office,  and  by  the. 
Chief's  direction  his  pockets  were  emp- 
tied. Among  other  things  yonder  watch 
and  ring  were  taken,  and  laid  aside  to  be 
claimed.  After  awhile  I  bought  them  of 
the  city.  The  prisoner  is  the  man  who 
was  arrested  at  Memphis,  and  who  after- 
ward broke  jail.  He  was  known  to  be  a 
desperate  character,  and  gave  his  name 
as  "Watson.     That  is  all." 

"How  came  you  to  be  here,  Mr.  Mild- 
may." 

"  I  was  looked  up  by  a  detective  in  the 
employ  of  Mr.  Turrell." 

"  Thank  you." 

Once  more  there  was  absolute  silence  in 
court. 

The  pen  of  the  clerk  could  be  heard. 
and  the  rustle  of  papers  in  the  hands  o\ 
Colonel  Barker. 

Colonel  Barker's  lips  moved. 

"Prisoner  at  the  bar.  You  are  ad 
judged  a  murderer  and  a  spy.  The  mur- 
der is  only  proven  in  evidence  to  refute 
your  own  false  defense.  That  you  had 
reasons  of  your  own  for  acting  the  part 
of  a  spy  is  not  to  the  point.  The  punish 
ment  reserved  for  a  spy  is  death  by  hang 
ing.  The  sentence  of"  the  Court,  there- 
fore,  is,   that  you  be    taken  from  hern 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


27 


under  guard  to  the  prison;  from  thence, 
at  sunrise  to-morrow  morning:,  yon  shall 
be  taken  from  the  prison  to  a  suitable 
plaee  of  execution,  and  there  be  hanged 
by  the  neck  until  you  are  dead." 


The  drama  in  Ned  Trinkner's  life,  in 
which  the  prisoner  Watson  had  played  so 
important  and  tragical  a  part,  was  well 
nigh  over. 

The  true  fate  of  our  hero's  unfortunate 
father  was  satisfactorily  proven,  and  the 
fate  of  his  murderer  was  now  assured. 

A  terrible  load  with  its  consequent 
strain  was  removed  from  Ned's  mind, 
and  after  all  the  stirring  events  of  the 
day  he  slept  soundly. 

It  was,  as  it  seemed,  in  the  dead  of  night 
when  Ned  was  rudely  awakened. 

It  was  still  dark,  though,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  The  noise  that  awoke  Ned 
was  the  explosion  of  a  monster  shelL 

Every  man  in  that  camp  of  the  ten 
thousand  men  awoke  and  turned  out. 

But  there  was  perfect  order,  and  every 
movement  was  made  with  military  pre- 
cision. 

A  fire  was  blazing  away  to  the  left  of 
the  camp. 

It  was  the  location  of  the  prison. 

The  prison  was  afire! 

'•Stand  by!  Ready!"  was  the  order 
which  ran  all  through  the  camp. 

Everyone  knew  that  the  shell  had  been 
fired  by  the  enemy. 

"Captain  Wilson,  take  your  company 
and  extinguish  the  fire.  Also  secure  the 
prisoners." 

It  was  Colonel  Barker  who  gave  the 
orders. 

Captain  Wilson's  company  included 
Lieutenant  Triukner. 

They  hurried  to  the    blazing    prison, 
which  was  a  small,  wooden  structure. 
^  When  they  reached  it  the  building  was 
almost   burned  out,   and  what  was  not 
burned  was  shattered  by  the  explosion. 

As  well  as  they  could  they  subdued  the 
flames,  and  then  a  fearful  sight  met  their 
gaze. 

Beneath  the  charred  embers  and  black- 
ened logs  and  boards  was  a  human  body. 
It  was  mutilated  beyond  description. 
It  was  torn  to  shreds  by  fragments  of 
the  iron  shell. 

And  this  ragged,  bleeding  body  was 
burned  to  a  crisp. 

It  was  the  prisoner,  Watson. 
Verily,  vengeance  had  overtaken  him, 
for  a  more  fearful  death   than   hanging 
was  his. 
Ned  turned  away,  sick  and  sorrowful. 
But  he  had    other  work  before  him, 
now. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

V  K  J)     I  H     BATTLE. 

But  there  was  no  time  nor  opportunity 
just  then  to  waste  on  sentiment. 

Something  sterner  than  sentiment  now 
stared  Ned  and  his  comrades  in  the  face. 
The  solitary  shell  which   burst  in  their 
midst  with  such  telling  effect  was  only  a 
forerunner  of  more  deadly  missives. 
And  this  "the  boys  "  knew  full  well. 
The  enemy  had  surprised  them. 
For  many  weeks  this  army  had  done 
practically  nothing.  % 

But  it  was  only  the  calm  before  the 
threatening  storm. 

Hostilities  had  now  reopened  and  a 
battle  was  imminent. 

It  was  only  a  small  army,  being  but  a 
portion  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee. 

The  Commanders  had   no  notion  that 
the  enemy  was  at  all  near  them. 
It  was  a  genuine  surprise. 
This  shot  meant  business. 
Experienced    officers    knew    that    the 
Rebels  would   never  have  fired    the  firs: 
shot   unless   they  were  in   great   strengh 
and  meant  to  follow  it  up. 

In  the  cold  gray  dawn  of  morning  all 
was  bustle  and  commotion. 

Tents  were  struck  and  piled  into  bag- 
gage-wagons. 

Provisions  and  spare  ammunition  fol- 
lowed suit. 

With  an  escort,  all  these  things  were 
sent  to  the  rear. 

Bugles  called  the  men  to  various  posi- 
tions and  to  various  duties. 

Horses  neighed,  swords  clanked,  and 
the  tramp  of  many  feet  sounded  through 
the  morning  air. 

Above  everything  could  be  heard  the 
hoarse  orders  given  by  the  Commanders' 
aids,  who  flitted  bither  and  thither. 

Although  General  Dixon  was  the  senior 
officer,  anil  therefore  in  nominal  com- 
mand of  the  army,  he  was  an  officer  of 
engineers. 

So,  with  his  usual  wisdom,  he  gave  way 
to  the   General   of   Volunteers,  who  had 
really  had  far  more  experience  of  actual 
fighting. 
This  was  General  Armstrong. 
He  hastily  summoned  a  council  of  war. 
The  result  was  that  he  speedily  divided 
his  ariiiy  into  three  divisions. 

The  tirst,  consisting  entirely  of  infantry 
and  one  battery  of  artillery,  was  to  hold 
their  present  position. 

All  the  available  cavalry  was  ordered 
to  make  a  detour  and  come  up  behind 
the  enemy,  where  they  could  harass  them 
considerably. 

The  cavalry  troops  were  to  go  to  the 
left  and  so  reach  the  enemy's  rear. 

Meanwhile  the  largest  "division,   con- 


28 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


sisting  of  infantry  and  three  batteries  of 
field  artillery,  was  to  move  rapidly  to 
the  right. 

The  object  was  to  steal  a  march  on  the 
enemy,  and,  before  they  could  attack  the 
Union  army's  position  on  the  river  bank, 
open  a  fierce,  sudden  and  unexpected  at- 
tack on  the  Confederates. 

To  this  division  was  assigned  the  regi- 
ment of  Kentucky  Skirmishers  and  of 
course  Lieutenant  Trinkner  was  with 
them. 

Little  an  old  warrior,  Ned  pricked  up 
his  ears  and'smelled  the  battle  afar  off. 

He  was  eager  for  the  conflict. 

This  was  the  life  that  suited  Ned. 

It  was  better,  far  better  for  him  than 
hunting  down  criminals  like  the  wretched 
Watson. 

After  the  terrible  strain  and  excitement 
of  the  past  forty-eight  hours,  the  chance 
of  a  fierce  struggle  with  his  country's 
enemies  seemed  to  him  almost  like  recrea- 
tion. 

His  fingers  itched  to  grasp  his  trusty 
sword. 

He  loaded  up  his  two  old  friends  (his 
trusty  revolvers)  and  stuck  them  in  his 
belt. 

His  feet  tingled,  he  longed  to  hear  the 
order  to 

Crash! 

It  was  another  shell. 

Crash!    Crash!    Crash! 

Ah!  The  attack  had  begun  in  ear- 
nest. 

General  Dixon,  who  was  an  expert 
judge  of  distance  in  firing,  gave  it  as  his 
opinion  that  the  enemy  were  firing  from 
the  crest  of  the  ridge,  some  three  and  a 
half  miles  away. 

They  might  be  covering  with  these 
shells  the  advance  of  the  attacking  force. 

There  was  no  time  to  lose. 

"  Mark — time!" 

"  March!" 

"  Quick — march!" 

The  orders  rang  down  the  lines  through 
regiment  after  regiment  like  volleys  of 
musketry. 

The  men  shouldered  their  muskets,  bent 
themselves  to  their  task,  and  marched 
like  cadets  on  a  parade-ground. 

Onward  moved  the  large  division.  Gen- 
eral Armstrong  himself  riding  at  the 
head  of  the  boys. 

But  if  the  gallant  Commander  was  at 
the  head,  he  was  pressed  closely  by  the 
leading  regiment, 

They  were  the  hero-veterans  of  a  dozen 
battles;  the  boys  of  the  Kentucky  Skir- 
mishers. 

Onward  they  pressed,  panting  and 
eager  for  the  fray. 

Up,  up,  up! 

Onward    and    upward,     climbing    the 


steep  hillside  through  woods  and  under- 
brush, until  in  the  mists  of  the  early 
morning  they  seemed  to  be  piercing  into 
the  very  clouds. 

Bang!     Rattle!    Whir!    Rattle!    Whiz! 

The  Kentucky  boys  had  pressed  right 
into  the  enemy's  lines,  and  wore  met  by 
a  volley  of  deadly  bullets. 

But  they  were  ready. 

They  fought  like  tigers. 

But  they  were  ahead  of  their  support. 

They  had  to  fall  back,  but  they  re 
treated  in  good  order. 

Again  and  again  they  assaulted  the 
strong  position  of  the  Rebels. 

Again  and  again  they  were  repulsed. 

All  day  loner,  at  different  points  of  that 
sloping  hillside,  the  battle  raged  furi- 
ously, and  when  night  came  neither  sida 
had  surrendered. 

The  sun  had  just  set  behind  the  western 
hills  when  General  Armstrong,  who  was 
himself  a  brave  and  determined  fighter, 
again  came  to  his  tired  soldiers,  whower« 
well-nigh  worn  out. 

"Once  more,  boys!  If  we  can  dislodga 
that  devilish  battery  of  theirs  which  ig 
throwing  all  the  deadly  shells  down 
below,  we  shall  have  them  foul.  Comet 
they  think  we  are  through!" 

Bravely  the  boys  rallied  around  then 
intrepid  leader,  and  again  they  fought 
their  way  through  solid  linas  of  infantry, 
inch  by  inch. 

They  did  their  work  well. 

They  spiked  the  guns  and  mortars  oj 
the  Rebels'  death-dealing  battery. 

"  Hurrah !"  shouted  General  Armstrong, 
who  was  now  afoot,  his  horse  having 
been  shot. 

"  Hurrah!"  echoed  Colonel  Barker  and 
our  friend  Ned,  who  were  fighting  brave* 
ly,  shoulder  to  shoulder. 

Their  work  completed  successfully,  tht 
commander  ordered  the  bugler  to  souncj 
a  retreat. 

The  enemy  was  coming  up. 

They  had  been  reinforced,  and  theii 
chief  had  only  just  become  aware  of  tha 
fresh  assault  on  his  battery. 

Down  came  a  shower  of  shot!  Bullets 
flew  thick  and  fast.  The  Union  boys  fled 
as  best  they  could  down  the  hillside. 

But  many  fell  right  there. 

Darkness  was  coming  on,  and  upon 
that  field  of  slaughter,  side  by  side,  laj 
three  men. 

It  was  a  strange  group. 

An  elderly  man,  a  veteran  soldier  antf 
General  of  U.  S.  Volunteers. 

A  young  man,  a  mere  lad,  but  also  an 
army  officer. 

And  a  colored  ma'i—- a  middle-aged  ne- 
gro. 

General  Dixon,  j*Ted  Trickier  and 
Chuck. 


GEN.  DIXON'S  BOY  AIDE. 


29 


All  were  badly  wounded,  and  Chuck 
was  dying. 

"  Ah,  Mars'  Ned,  guess  T'se  gwine  ter 
frow  Lp  de  sponge,  sah!  Guess  dis  yer 
coon's  a  goner,  Mars1  Ned." 

"Cheer  up.  Chuck,  old  fellow,"  said 
Ned  cheerfully,  although  be  was  in  great 
pain.     How  came  you  here?" 

"Well,  sab,  I  jes'  nat'rally  had  to.  I 
was  a  dyin'  fer  to  grapple  wid  some  of 
dese  yer  dirty  Rebs,  sah.  So  I  fell  in  wid 
de  boys,  sah.  But  I'se  a  goner,  suah. 
An  I'se  suffin  ter  'fess,  Mars'  Ned." 

"To  confess?    What  is  it,  Chuck?" 

"  I  knowed,  Mars'  Ned,  all  de  time,  dat 
Hank  Watson  he  done  murder  po'  Mars' 
Trinkner,  sah.  But  I  was  terrible  scart 
of  Hank,  sah,  'cause  he  done  threaten  me 
an'  make  dis  yer  niggah  take  a  awful 
oath,  sah.  I'se  awful  sorry,  sab,  but  now 
I'se  'fessed  I'll  die  easier." 

"Well  never  mind  that,  Chuck.  Only 
don't  lose  heart;  you'll  get  out  of  this  all 
right." 

But  the  next  time  Ned  looked. around 
at  his  old  servant  and  nurse,  Chuck  was 
dead. 

Suddenly  upon  the  still  air  could  be 
heard  the  clank  of  spurs  and  the  heavy 
thud  of  horses'  feet. 

"Cavalry,"    muttered     General    Arm-, 
strong,   ominousl}\      "Rebel  cavalry  in 
force,   chasing    our    fellows.      They  are 
coming    this   way.      Heavens,   they  will 
gallop  right  over  us!" 

Sure  enough,  a  large  troop  of  Confeder- 
ate horsemen  was  approaching. 

They  were  right  on  to  them. 

Another  minute  and  hoofs  would  be 
pounded  into  them. 

Ned  thought  a  hundred  things. 

He  thought  of  Muggletown  and  his 
friends  there. 

He  thought  how  young  he  was  and 
how  he  would  like  to  live. 

He  loved  life  and  all  that  it  contained. 

But  he  knew  there  was  a  man  near 
him  whose  life  just  then  might  be  worth 
a  great  deal  to  his  country. 

Ned  was  brave. 

He  was  also  quick  to  act. 

He  had  to  be  quick,  or  it  would  be  too 
late. 

With  an  effort,  wounded  as  he  was,  he 
threw  himself  upon  General  Armstrong, 
his  entire  length  being  stretched  along 
the  General's  body. 

Clatter!    Clatter!    Clatter! 

Thud!    Thud!    Thud! 

On  came  the  heavy  cavalry,  riding 
swiftly  their  cruel  horses. 

Ned  felt  a  ringing  blowon  his  head  and 
a  pain  in  his  back  for  just  an  instant. 

And  he  knew  nothing  more  until  he 
awoke  in  a  quiet  hospital  tent  in  the 
camp  of  the  "Union  army. 


It  was  another  close  call  for  Ned,  but 
he  was  alive,  and  while  there  was  life 
there  was  hope. 

Ned  was  the  hero  of  the  hour. 

He  had  saved  his  commander's  life  and 
proven  himself  the  bravest  of  the  brave. 

He  had  been  rescued  from  that  field  of 
dead  and  dying  in  the  dead  of  night. 

Yes,  he  was  alive;  but  not  much  more. 

His  fighting  days  were  over. 

He  lay  in  the  field-hospital  for  weeks, 
and  then  he  was  sent  on  {a.  first  lieuten- 
ant, however,)  to-  Washington,  to  be 
nursed  in  the  hospital  there  and  to  be 
treated  by  skillful  surgeons. 

His  wounds  and  bruises  were  fearful, 
and  his  internal  injuries  were  extremely 
severe. 

But  he  recovered  enough  to  sit  up  and 
ride. 

And  then  he  was  given  a  year's  fur- 
lough, and  at  the  expense  of  the  Govern- 
ment was  sent  to  winter  in  the  milder  cli- 
mate of  California. 

He  sailed  from  New  York  in  an  English 
steamer  for  the  Isthmus,  which  was  the 
only  way  in  those  days  for  invalids  to 
reach  the  Pacific  Coast. 

It  was  hoped  that  the  sea  voyage  and  a 
milder  climate  would  do  our  hero  much 
good. 

And  they  did. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

CONCLUSION. 

The  war  was  over. 

All  its  horror  and  sorrow  were  things  of 
the  past. 

Such  a  dreadful  past,  indeed,  that  not 
a  whole  generation  of  years  have  sufficed 
to  blot  its  terrible  truth  from  our  memo- 
ries. 

Forever  more  must  it  remain  a  page  in 
our  National  history. 

And  yet  it  is  not  altogether  a  dark 
page.  ( 

There  was  and  always  will  be  a  good 
deal  of  luster  to  it. 

It  is  illuminated  with  the  bravery, 
hardihood  and  patriotism  ot  men  and 
boys. 

It  is  brightened  by  the  love  and  self- 
sacrificing  devotion  of  noble  women. 

These  things  have  provided  the  dark 
cloud  with  a  silver  lining. 

Such  lads  as  our  friend,  Ned  Trinkner, 
help  to  reconile  us  to  the  war. 

Such  courage  as  his,  and  such  devoted- 
ness  to  the  sacred  cause  of  country  and 
the  old  flag,  make  us  almost  glad  that  the 
great  war  occurred  to  bring  out  the  hir1 
den  virtues  of  our  boys. 

But  the  war  was  over,  and  after  ^ 
winter  under  California  skies  Ned  Trink- 


30 


GEN.  DIXONo  BOY  AIDE. 


ner  was  once  more  at  his  old  home  in 
Muggletown,  Kentucky. 

It  seemed  good  for  him  to  be  home. 
Jj'or  although  there  were  many  sad  mem- 
ories and  many  missing  faces  even  there, 
it  all  seemed  so  peaceful  and  quiet  and 
happy. 

Anil  every  one  was  so  glad  to  see  our 
hero. 

Even  after  he  had  been  home  a  week 
$  seemed  to  Ned  that  he  could  not  move 
out  of  the  hotel  (where  he  made  Ins  head- 
quarters) without  being  grabbed  by  the 
hand  and  shaken. 

And  the  old  folks  were  proud  to  have 
one  of  the  genuine  Muggletown  boys, 
horn  and  raised  in  their  midst,  back 
among  them,  a  real  live  officer. 

"  How  do,  Lieutenant!'1 

'"Morning,  Lieutenant!" 

"Mr.  Jones,  this  here  is  Lieutenant 
Trinkner,  one  of  our  boys,  sir!"'" 

"Ah,  glad  to  meet  you,  Lieutenant!" 

That  was  about  the  way  it  sounded  to 
Fed  all  the  time  when  he  set  his  foot 
outside  his  room  door. 


It  was  a  lovely  day  in  May. 

Ned  had  been  home  two  or  three  weeks, 
and  was  more  his  own  self  than  he  had 
been  since  his  accident- on  the  battle- 
held. 

There  were  great  goings-on  in  Muggle- 
town. 

Drums  were  bearing. 

Bands  were  playing. 

Flags  streamed  from  the  church-spires 
and  public  buildings. 

Horns  were  tooting. 

All  the  stores  were  gayly  decked  in 
bunting. 

Muggletown  was  in  its  holiday  attire. 

The  citizens  were  going  to  give  the 
veterans  of  their  town  a  reception. 

Money  was  no  object. 

Good  things  to  eat  and  drink  were  in 
profusion. 

That  day  "the  boys  "  were  simply  to 
give  what  they  wanted  "a  name,"  and 
they  were  to  have  it. 

There  Avas  to  be  a  great  pow-wow  on 
the  puhlic  square  in  the  afternoon,  and 
in  the  evening  a  magnificent  banquet  in 
the  Court  House. 

Some  great  men  were  to  honor  the  oc- 
casion with  their  presence. 

Distinguished  neighbors,  great  states- 
men and  veteran  Generals. 

At  two  o'clock  the  speech-making  com- 
menced on  the  square. 

The  Mayor  of  Muggletown  presided, 
and  made  a  speech  of  welcome  to  "the 
boys"  who  had  come  back  from  the  war. 

He  was  followed   by  the  Congressman  I 


from  that  district,  who  made  a  thrilling 
oration. 

Then  an  old  friend  of  ours,  General 
Dixon,  took  the  platform. 

There  were  rounds  of  applause,  for  the 
General  had  done  his  country  much  good 
service. 

He  tried  to  speak,  but  they  only  cheered 
the  harder. 

There  was  momentary  quiet,  and  the 
General  seized  the  opportunity. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "if  I  cannot 
make  a  speech  it  is  all  right,  for  I  am  no 
speechmaker.  But  I  am  bound  to  say 
just  one  thing.  I  have  a  fine  young  friend 
among  your  citizens.  He  is  a.  gallant  lad, 
a  brave  soldier,  an  excellent  officer,  and  a 
fine  fellow  all  around.  His  name  is  Lieu- 
tenant Ned  Trinkner,  and  this  roll  of 
parchment  concerns  him. 

"Let  me  read  it  aloud  to  you,  my 
friends." 

Strict  silence  was  accorded  as  the  Gen- 
eral read,  in  his  loudest  tones: 

Know  all  men  by  these  present*:  Our 
trusty  friend  and  citizen.  Edward  Trink- 
ner, of  Kentucky,  and  a  Lieutenant  of 
UnitedStates  Volunteers,  is,  and  is  here- 
by appointed  to  be,  a  Captain  of  United 
States  Volunteers. 

•  Given  under  our  hand  and  seal,  at 
Washington,  this  tenth  day  of  May, 
18G5.  Andrew  Johnson, 

President. 
By  the  President: 
Edwin  M.  Stanton, 
Secretary  of  War. 

"Gentlemen  and  ladies,  friends  ail," 
continued  General  Dixon,  "let  me  pre- 
sent to  you  my  dear  young  comrade,  a 
shining  credit  to  vour  town,  Captain  Ned 
Trinkner!" 

Well,  the  applause  and  yelling  was  sim- 
ply deafening,  and  cheer  after  cheer  went 
up.  Cries  of  "Captain  Ned!"  arose  from 
all  parts  of  the  square,  and  our  hero  was 
obliged  to  make  his  way  on  to  the  plat- 
form, where  he  was  heartily  welcomed. 

But  that  was  not  all. 

Lawyer  Turrell  forced  his  way  to  the 
front,  and  on  behalf  of  Ned's  old  friends 
and  neighbors  handed  to  the  newly- 
made  Captain  a  most  magnificent  dress 
sword. 

The  blade  was  of  purest  Damascus 
steel,  and  the  scabbard  was  of  rich  silver 
figured  in  gold. 

Near  the  hilt  was  a  suitable  inscrip- 
tion. 

Ned  was  much  moved,  so  that  he  could 
not  make  a  speech. 

But  he  managed  to  wave  his  cap  and  to 
feebly  shout: 


GEN    DIXON'S   HOY  AIDE. 


SI 


"  Hurrah  for  old  Kentucky  and  for  the 
old  flag!" 

Weli,  it  was  a  great  day  for  shouting 
and  Cheering  and  congratulations!. 

But  it  is  doubtful  if  there  was  a  hap- 
pier young  man  in  the  world  that  day 
than  our  hero,  Captain  Ned,  or  a  fellow- 
citizen  who  was  more  glad  to  see  him 
than  ex-Captain  Charley  Stiles! 

The  time  has  come  for  us  to  bid  Ned 
farewell,  which  we  do  with  some  reluc- 
tance. Rumor  has  it  that  he  settled 
clown  a?  a  good  and  honored  citizen  in 


his  native  town;  and  there  is  a  whisper 
that  before  many  years  he  found  the 
pretty  girl  whom  he  aided  once,  when 
Watson  had  taken  possession  of  her  fath- 
er's house.  That,  however,  is  only  hear- 
say. 

Bat  be  sure  of.  this.  As  the  twig  is 
bent  the  tree  is  inclined.  And  if  Ned 
Trinkner  in  his  boyhood's  days  was 
brave,  fearless,  noble  and  honorable, 
there  is  little  fear  he  failed  to  carry  these 
traits  with  him  into  later  life. 
Au  Hevoir,  Captian  Ned! 


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CATALOGUE. 

,-,.*  i  EARLE  LYNDON,  THE  SHADOW ;  or,  Trailing  the  King  of  the  Smugglers.    By  Bail 

Brocade. 
.   , .  THE  SILENT  AVENGER  ;  or,  The  Fate  of  the  Crooked  Nine.     By  M.  Y.  Hand. 
,,..  JERRY,  THE  WEASEL;  or.  The  Boy  Spy's  Mission.    By  Louis  Bernard. 
,  , . .  COOL  NED,  THE  CYCLONE ;  or,  The  Road  Agent's  Doom.     By  Ned  Buntling. 
....  HUMAN  WOLVES ;  or,  The  Boy  Ventriloquist.    By  Major  Downing. 
....  THE  TWINS'  STRUGGLES ;  or,  On  the  Road  to  Fortune.     By  Lieutenant  Atkinson. 
....  THE  CREOLE'S  TREACHERY;  or,  Titus  the  Scout's  Faithful  Servant.    By  T.  r. 

Johnson. 
....  RICK,  THE  WAIF;  or,  The  Young  Fisherboy  Sleuth-hound.    By  T.  P.  James. 
....  BURT,  THE  HERO  ;  or,  Adventures  of  a  Plucky  Boy.    By  James  Franklin  File, 
....  CAVALRY  CURT ;  or,  The  Wizard  of  the  Army.    By  G.  Waldo  Browne. 
....  SAM,  THE  WHARF-RAT  ;  or,  Outwitted  by  a  Boy.    By  Louis  Bernard. 
....  LARKE,  THE  LAWYER  SHADOW ;  or,  The  Haunted  Ranch  on  the  Prairie.    By  Boa* 

Brocade. 
....  GIANT  PETE,  THE  TRAILER :  or,  Saved  by  a  Miracle.    By  Colonel  Sort. 
....  UNDER  TWO  FLAGS ;  or,  His  Life  for  His  Honor.    A  sequel  to  "  Cavalry  Curt."    £7 

G.  Waldo  Browne. 
... .  ,*MOLL,  THE  TIGRESS ;  or,  Polled  by  a  Boy  Detective.    By  Major  A.  F.  Grant. 
....  TED,  THE  BANTAM  DETECTIVE  :  or,  Downing  the  Sharpers.     By  George  B.  Lee. 
....  DICK,  THE  BOY  ENGINEER ;   or,  On  the  Right  Track.     By  W.  A.  Hickson. 
....  THROUGH  THE  EARTH ;  or,  Mystery  of  an  Unknown  World.     By  Carl  C.  Buffos* 
. , . .  ROSS,  THE  MIDDY ;  or,  The  Secret  of  the  Cliff.    By  Mark  Frobisher. 
, . . .  STEEL  GRIP,  THE  INVINCIBLE ;  or,  Two  of  the  Finest.     By  Ned  Buntling. 
....  DICK  DANFORTHjthe  Loyal  Scout  of  Tennessee.    By  Major  A  P.  Grant. 
....  MISSOURI  BILL'S  TRUST;  or,  The  Young  Reporter  of  'Frisco.     By  T.  P.  James. 
0 . . .  CAPTAIN  JACK,  THE  UNION  SPY ;  or,  fn  Vicksburg  and  Out.     By  Harold  T.  Gray. 
....  SHARP  HART  IN  ST.  LOUIS;    or,  Playing  for  Big  Stakes.     By   Major  Walter 

Downing. 
. . . .  GEN.  DIXO>S  BOY  AIDE ;  or,  Ned  Trinker  in  the  Army.    By  Lieut.  W.  Atkinson. 
....  MARK  LEMON,  THE  YOUNG  ENGINEER ;  or.  True  Yankee  Grit.    By  T.  P.  Jam*s< 
....  FARRAGUT'S  SCOUT  RINGLETS;  or,  The  Brand  of  the  Mississippi.    By  Cal  De 

Castro. 
, .. ;  HARVEY  DAYRE,  THE  SPY ;  or,  Tracked  for  His  Life.    By  Major  A.  F.  Grant. 
....  AT  BAY  IN  A  CAVERN ;  or,  After  Big  Game.    By  Lieut  W.  H.  Atkinson. 
....  BRUCE  HARDY  ON  DECK ;  or,  A  Hero  for  Uncle  Sam.    By  Morris  Redwing. 
....  LTEUT.  GEORGE  TRELLEN ;  or,  A  Tricky  Union  Boy.    By  George  B.  Wilson. 
....  THE  GUNBOAT  BOYS ;  or,  Harry  and  Artie  Among   the  Guerrillas.      By  Arthur 

Rankin. 
....  CRAFTY  JACK  HARPER :  or,  A  Scout  That  Is  a  Scout.    By  T.  P.  James. 
....  SLIPPERY  MDLT,  THE  SCOUT ;  or,  Running  the  Gauntlet  of  Island  No.  10.    By  Lieut. 

Henry  Downs. 
...  WALTER  COLLIER'S  PLUCK ;  or,  Down  the  Mississippi  in  a  Yacht.     By  W.  H 

Atkinson. 

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